


His Last Chance For Honor

by TenToo



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Minor Robb Stark/Talisa Maegyr, Smut, Unlikely alliances, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-05-09 16:00:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 42,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5546372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TenToo/pseuds/TenToo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaime Lannister, after returning from the Starks' imprisonment, willingly leaves the Kingsguard. Lord Tywin tells Jaime he is to take over Tyrion's betrothal to Sansa Stark. They are to wed and depart for Casterly Rock. Will the direwolf be able to forgive the Lion of Lannister for all he's done? What will Robb do when he learns of Sansa's wedding? Will he cross Walder Frey again?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Jaime I

Jaime ran his fingers through his newly cut hair. It had been so greasy and long for over a year and he never thought he would live to see it cut again. After the haircut and the longest bath of his life, he prepared to dress. He looked at the Kingsguard armor that leaned against a chair. Someone had placed it there for him. He was still the Lord Commander, though he had never acted as the Lord Commander since he was named while _away_. He clenched his jaw as he stared at it. 

He pulled on a tunic and breeches with difficulty. The loss of his right hand had made everything difficult for him, even holding a spoon to eat. Lastly, came his boots, which took damn near 5 minutes to pull on. After, he ran his fingers through his clean, short hair again. He smiled to himself as he left his chambers, heading for the Tower of the Hand.

It was a long walk and he was on the receiving end of some nasty stares. He walked with as much dignity as he could muster, but he knew that they were all staring at the stump at the end of his arm. He ascended the Tower of the Hand and knocked on the door to his father’s solar, where he would be at this hour. 

Jaime raised his right hand to knock but lowered it again as he caught sight of the stump. He kept forgetting that he didn’t have a hand at the end anymore. He knocked with his left hand and heard, “Come in.”

He reached across his body to open the door. The world wasn’t made for left-handed people he had decided. Jaime stepped into the solar and found Lord Tywin Lannister sitting behind the desk, writing something intently. He didn't look at his eldest son, whom he hadn’t seen since the start of the War of the Five Kings. Jaime stood in front of the desk, arms behind his back, his left hand holding his right forearm, waiting. 

Lord Tywin finally looked up and said, “You’re back.”

“Yes, I thought that was fairly obvious.” Jaime said dryly. 

Tywin’s eyebrows furrowed as he regarded his son. “I see you haven’t lost your humor.” He stood from behind the desk and walked around to stand before his son. They were almost of identical height and Tywin met his son’s eyes with ease. He liked that. When he tried to talk to Tyrion, he felt the need to crouch down in front of the little monster as if he were still a child. Tywin said, “You look well.”

Jaime unclasped his left hand and swung his right arm to raise it in front of his father’s face. “Does this look _well_ to you, Father?”

Tywin didn’t look at the stump and stared into his son’s green eyes. “No, it doesn’t. But you will recover. You’re a Lannister.”

“Yes, I’m a Lannister. The new cripple Lannister for everyone to sneer and jeer at. As if they didn’t already hate me enough.” Jaime said, looking away from his father’s cold stare.

“I have a gift.” Tywin stepped away from his son and walked to a table near one of the windows. 

“Why?”

“Do I need a reason?”

Jaime thought yes. Tywin didn’t bestow charity upon anyone, he rarely gave gifts. But he held his tongue and didn’t make a sound as he watched his father pick up a sword in a sheath. Jaime walked toward him, curious. 

Tywin held the sword by its sheath out to Jaime, who reached forward with his left hand and grabbed the ornate hilt. It was gold and the pommel was a golden lion’s head. At the end of each quillon was another lion’s head, making three in total on the hilt. Jaime pulled the sword awkwardly out of the sheath and held it out in front of him. 

“Is this Valyrian steel?” He asked, eyes growing wide as he stared at the beautiful sword.

“Mm-hmm.” 

“Looks fresh-forged.”

Tywin confirmed, “It is.”

“No one’s made a Valyrian steel sword since the Doom of Valyria.”

Tywin strode back around the desk as he talked. “There are three living smiths who know how to rework Valyrian steel. The finest of them was in Volantis. Came here to King's Landing at my invitation.”

As Tywin sat down, Jaime asked, “Where did you get this much Valyrian steel?”

“From someone who no longer had need of it.” He had a smirk on his face.

“We’ve wanted one of these in the family for a long time.” Jaime commented. Since Brightroar was lost long ago on King Tommen II Lannister’s absurd trek to Valyria, House Lannister hadn’t a Valyrian sword to their name.

“And now we have two.”

“Two?” 

Tywin said, “The original weapon was absurdly large. Plenty of steel for two swords.”

Ice. He was talking of Ice. Ned Stark’s sword. Jaime had thought he would have returned the greatsword to the Stark family. It’s what he would have done. He and his father were not the same person. Jaime said, “Well, thank you. It's glorious.”

Jaime sheathed the sword as best he could. Tywin watched him as he said, “You’ll have to train your left hand.”

“Any decent swordsman knows how to use both hands.” Jaime commented.

“You'll never be as good.”

“No.” Jaime said sadly. “But as long as I'm better than everyone else, I suppose it doesn't matter.”

Tywin looked his son in the eye again, waiting for him to say something else. Jaime had asked for the meeting, he clearly had something on his mind. This time, Jaime didn’t look away from his father’s gaze.

“While its written in no book, I feel that I wouldn’t be able to do my sworn duty of protecting the king with only one hand. I wish for Joffrey to exercise his right to relieve me of my duties.”

Tywin just looked at him. “You do?”

“Yes. I cannot serve the king as I used to. If I failed him, I couldn’t live with myself.” Jaime lied. Honestly, Joffrey was a monster and, even though he was his father, Jaime knew that something would happen to the boy soon and he was okay with it. He needed to be stopped by any means necessary.

“Well, we will have Joffrey strip you of your white cloak.” Tywin said, giving Jaime a small smile. “And you’ll return to Casterly Rock and rule in my stead.”

“You are the Lord of Casterly Rock, Father.” Jaime said, giving him a strange look.

“Yes, but I am the King’s Hand. My place is here.” Tywin said, looking around the room. “I don’t expect to see the Rock again before I die. I would like to know that it is in good hands…hand. And when I do die, you will be Lord of Casterly Rock, as you were always meant to be before Aerys Targaryen raised you to the Kingsguard nearly 20 years ago.”

Jaime didn’t care about leaving King’s Landing. He had nothing left here for him anyway; he detested Cersei after learning of her many betrayals from Tyrion.

“There’s one more thing.” Tywin said slowly.

“What more is there? You’ve given me Valyrian steel and the Rock already.”

“A wife.”

Jaime sat down across from his father and just looked at him. “A wife?”

“Yes. I was planning to marry the young Stark girl to Tyrion to secure the North and undermine the Tyrells who planned to do the same.” His father said. “But you’ve returned and given me this great opportunity.”

“Sansa Stark? Isn’t she a bit young?”

“That’s of no matter.” Tywin waved it off. 

“I’m old enough to be her father!”

“Yes. And you will father your children by her.” Tywin said, dryly. His face was an emotionless mask as he stared at his son. “You will put a child in her belly and secure the North.”

“And what if she doesn’t love me after all that our family has done to her?” Jaime practically yelled at him.

“You will put a baby in her, one way or another.” 

“I will not rape her!”

“You will do as you are told!” Tywin half stood from his seat and stared down at his son.

Jaime’s jaw clenched as he said, “And are my siblings doing their duty for the family?”

Tywin nodded, resuming his seat. “Cersei will marry Ser Loras Tyrell to secure the Reach. And I will find another to betroth Tyrion to soon enough.”

“Are we trying to secure every fucking kingdom!”

“Yes.” He said, nodding slowly. “Myrcella is getting us Dorne. You will have the westerlands and the North. Cersei will have the Reach. All we need are the stormlands, the Iron Islands, and the Vale.” After a moment, Tywin said, “Maybe I’ll marry Tyrion to that Greyjoy bitch. Theon has been captive since the Boltons took Winterfell, she is now the heir to the Iron Islands.” 

“Not a bad move, if you can get Balon Greyjoy to the table.”

“We will, one way or another.” Tywin said, committing to his plan. “Now, go tell your intended of the change. Be sure to wipe her tears, the poor girl’s likely been crying her eyes out. Tyrion’s no ideal match for anyone, least of all a beauty from the North. Tell her you are to be married within a fortnight and will ride for Casterly Rock not long after.”

Jaime sighed and nodded. “Yes, Father.”

He stood and walked to the door but his father called him back. “Your sword, Jaime.”

Jaime grabbed the Valyrian sword from the desk and managed to hang it from his waist, on his right side rather than his left. His father watched his struggle. Jaime ignored his father’s muffled chuckle as he exited the solar.

 

Jaime found Sansa in her bedchamber. He knocked quietly on the door and heard a faint, “Come in.” He opened the door and her Tully blue eyes lit up in surprise. “Ser Jaime.”

“Lady Sansa.” He said, nodding to her as he stepped fully in the room. Her handmaiden, Shae, was brushing her long auburn locks. “I wonder if we could have a word in private?”

Sansa looked to Shae and nodded. The Lorathi handmaiden gave Jaime a wary look but didn’t comment on his being there.

Sansa stood and faced Jaime. “I didn’t know you were back. What can I do for you, Ser?”

Jaime walked toward her and said slowly, “I have some news of your wedding.”

Sansa’s eyes cast to the ground. “Oh.”

He sighed and stood in front of her, only a feet from his newly betrothed. “You will not be marrying my brother.”

Her eyes shot to his face as she said, “I won’t?”

He shook his head and looked at a spot beyond her. “No.” She was smiling, her mood changing drastically. He wondered if she would stay happy after he told her the second part of the news. “You won’t be marrying Tyrion, my lady.”

“But I’m still to marry someone?” She was smart, he knew that already.

“Yes.” He nodded. “You are to marry me.”

Her eyebrows furrowed. “But you’re of the Kingsguard. You’re sworn to have no wife, Ser Jaime.”

He shook his head. “I won’t be the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard nor a knight of the Kingsguard.” She was confused. He realized he had been hiding his right arm behind his back. He pulled it into view and she gasped. Word hadn’t reached her yet it would seem. “I will not serve with one hand.”

She stepped closer to him and raised a hand to touch his arm but stopped herself. “May I?” He nodded and she ran her hand over the bandaged stump. “Does it hurt?”

“Yes. Qyburn says it should stop soon though.” Jaime replied, watching her run her fingers over it in fascination. “Have you never seen a cripple?”

Her eyes shot to his face. “My brother is a cripple.” 

“Yes, but you haven’t seen him since.” Jaime, of course, knew that Bran was a cripple, he had been the one to cripple him. “What fascinates you so?”

Sansa dropped her hand and lowered her eyes, she said, “I’m sorry, Ser Jaime. I didn’t mean…”

“It’s quite alright, Lady Sansa.” Jaime smiled kindly at her. 

Silence fell between them for a moment and Jaime waited for Sansa to say something, anything. When she didn’t, he said, “We’re to be married within a fortnight. We will make for Casterly Rock after. I am to act as lord in my father’s stead.” He gave her a small bow before saying, “Lady Sansa, I am sorry. For everything.”

She looked at him quizzically as he exited the room.


	2. Sansa I

_He doesn’t want it either. He’s being forced into the marriage, just like me,_ Sansa thought as Shae and another handmaiden laced up her bodice. Her wedding gown was Lannister gold and asymmetrically cut in the style of the westerlands. It was embroidered with red. She would be a Lannister after the ceremony and Lord Tywin, who had picked out the gown, wanted her to know it. After she was dressed, she looked at herself in the mirror and understood the effect Tywin Lannister had meant to inflict upon her. She didn’t feel like a Stark anymore. Her hair was in the style of many at court and her dress was of light material. The furs of the North were lost to her now. 

“It’s time, my lady.” The handmaiden, whose name Sansa didn’t know, said. Shae gave her a quick hug and said, “It will be over before you know it.”

“It’s not the wedding I worry about.” She said quietly. Shae gave her a peculiar look as Sansa walked out of the room like she was heading to an appointment with Ser Ilyn Payne. She descended through Maegor’s Holdfast with her head held high like her septa had taught her years ago. A litter was waiting to take her to the Great Sept of Baelor.

She stepped out and was escorted up the steps by a knight of the Kingsguard, Ser Meryn Trant. She kept her disgust for the man to herself as she watched her steps, making sure she didn’t tear her dress before the dreaded bedding ceremony. As if reading her mind, Ser Meryn said, “I can’t wait to tear that dress off you.” She did not want him involved in the bedding ceremony; she would have to let Jaime know. She kept her head high as she replied, “I like this dress, there will be no tearing.”

He snarled in reply, “That’s what you think. Lord Tywin wants you bedded.”

They had reached the top steps and Sansa stood outside of the closed doors, waiting. Ser Meryn stood to the side as the doors opened. Sansa got her first look at those attending her wedding. 

In the front were the Lannisters: Queen Regent Cersei, King Joffrey, Prince Tommen, and Tyrion, her original intended. Behind them were the Tyrells: Margaery, Ser Loras, Olenna, and Mace. Bronn the sellsword was there too, not far from the royal family. He gave her a slight nod. Grand Maester Pycelle. Varys the Spider. The entirety of court filled the room, wanting to watch the wedding of the infamous Kingslayer. But no Northernmen. No Starks. Sansa sighed; when she had dreamed of her wedding throughout her youth, she had imagined her family there at least. She had imagine her father giving her away. 

Lord Tywin Lannister stood just inside the doors, Sansa found as she stepped into the sept. The doors were shut behind her and Lord Tywin offered her his arm. She supposed he was better to give her away than Joffrey, who had claimed the honor after he stripped his uncle of his white cloak. She wondered when Lord Tywin had told the king he would be having the responsibility of walking her down the aisle. She knew Joffrey would have pitched a fit.

“Those colors suit you, Lady Sansa.” Lord Tywin commented as they made the long walk.

“I should hope so. I expect I will wear them often.” She replied with enough sugar in her voice to kill a diabetic. He just nodded and Sansa turned her attention to the man waiting for her at the end of the long walk.

Jaime looked like a god in human form and Sansa found herself thanking the Old Gods and the New for allowing her to marry him over his younger brother, Tyrion. Jaime wore a richly embroidered red leather doublet and gray trousers. She smiled. _Stark gray_. He smiled back at her as she approached him on the arm of his father. 

Sansa and Lord Tywin ascended the steps and the lord father placed her hand in his son’s before returning down the steps to stand with the rest of his family. Sansa made sure to avoid the Queen Regent’s gaze. 

The High Septon waited a moment before telling Jaime, “You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection.”

Sansa turned and felt the heavy cloak rest on her shoulders. She faced the High Septon and glanced down at the red and gold Lannister cloak. She never thought she would see the day she was cloaked in Lannister red. 

The High Septon said, “Your Grace, Your Grace, my lords, my ladies. We stand here in the sight of the gods and men to witness the union of man and wife. One flesh, one heart, one soul. Now and forever. Face one another, join hands, and repeat my words.” Sansa turned to Jaime and he took her hands gently in his own. She felt metal in her left hand and looked down. He sported a handsome hand forged from some lightweight metal and dusted in gold. She turned her gaze back to him and he was smiling kindly at her.

Sansa said, “ _Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger. I am his and he is mine, from this day until the end of my days._ ” She had heard Jaime say, “ _Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger. I am hers and she is mine, from this day until the end of my days,”_ in unison with her. 

“Seal your love with a kiss.” The High Septon commanded. Sansa hadn’t even thought to worry about the kiss, for she had forgotten entirely about it. Jaime’s eye met hers and he saw how terrified she was. She saw his jaw clench for a moment before he leaned in. 

It was a mere peck; she had been expecting more. 

“Give her a real kiss, uncle!” King Joffrey yelled from below. Jaime stared at him hard but the king insisted and had half of court chanting for another kiss. Jaime looked at her apologetically before he claimed her lips and held her face in his hands. His lips moved against hers and she gasped, taken away by his forwardness. His tongue slipped into her mouth as she parted her lips and she met it with her own. It felt like she had been shocked. Amidst the hoots and whistles, Jaime pulled away and just stared at her, a confused expression on his face. _He felt it too._

 

The feast was held in the great hall and it had more food than Sansa had ever seen. She sat next to Jaime at the high table. The table just below theirs was filled with Lannisters. Cersei was watching her, it made her uneasy. 

She felt Jaime’s lips on her ear as he whispered, “Don’t mind her. She's just mad she has to marry Loras Tyrell while I got to marry you.”

He pulled away and she looked at him. She glanced down and saw the half empty glass of Arbor wine near his left hand. Was he drunk or well on his way? She looked back at him and found his green eyes staring into hers. “What do you mean by that? Loras is lovely.”

Jaime replied, “Lovely, yes. But Cersei’s not exactly his _type_.”

It took a moment before Sansa realized what he meant by that. “Oh.”

“Yes. _Oh._ ” Jaime said, smiling. “But I got to marry you. The true beauty of the North.”

He’d called her a beauty, but had he actually meant it? She looked at him for a moment before she glanced out over the crowd of guests. Margaery Tyrell waved a hand up and beckoned her over. 

“Lady Tyrell wants you.” Jaime said, picking up his wine.

“Excuse me, my lord.” She stood and walked toward the Tyrell table, feeling her new husband's gaze on her the whole way. She sat down in Loras’ vacated seat and Margaery took her hand. 

“I’m so happy for you, Sansa.” Her friend said. Sansa looked at her, confused. “You’ve married the handsome Lannister. The gallant knight.”

“He's a cripple.” Sansa whispered. 

“He’s a good-looking cripple. He’s only missing a hand, Sansa. He's not horribly disfigured like his brother.” Margaery said kindly.

Sansa nodded in agreement and looked up at her husband. He was chatting with the dwarf. “I was to marry Tyrion.” 

Margaery nodded. “I know. You’re better off. Tyrion is kind, but Jaime is too. At least, I hear he can be. I’m told he’s much improved since his imprisonment.”

Sansa smiled and was about to say something but she felt a chill go up her spine.

“Congratulations, my lady.” A cold voice said from behind her. She turned in her seat to see the king. He beckoned her to come with him. She looked at Margaery and then at Jaime, but he was still engrossed in conversation with the dwarf. 

“Thank you, Your Grace.” She said, standing.

He offered her his arm and led her away from his bride-to-be without saying a word to Margaery. “You’ve done it, you’ve married a Lannister. Soon you’ll have a Lannister baby in your belly. It’s what you’ve always wanted. It’s too bad the First Night tradition is banned, Lady Sansa.” The king said, walking her from the Tyrell table back to her seat next to Jaime. “Or I would have one last go with you. Maybe I’d put my own Lannister baby in you. No one would know.”

He smirked at her then at his uncle before he turned to their guests. “Time for the bedding ceremony!” 

Everyone cheered and Sansa looked horrified. Jaime stood and said, “There will be no ceremony.” 

Joffrey laughed it off. “Where’s your respect for tradition!”

“This tradition is an option, nephew.” Jaime said, a hard edge to his voice. He held a knife loosely in his hand as he stared down the king. “I will not have it at my wedding.”

Jaime stood and walked around the table to Sansa. He placed his hand on the small of her back and guided her out of the hall. As he passed the king, he said, “She's no longer yours to torment, _Your Grace_.”

 

Their bedchamber was large, much larger than any she had had during her stay in King’s Landing. He closed the door behind them and she asked, “Is this yours?”

“Ours, until we leave for Casterly Rock.” Jaime said, looking around the room. “But yes, it was mine.” 

“It’s lovely.” 

“Not as lovely as you, my lady.” 

Sansa blushed. “There’s no need to compliment me, my lord.”

Jaime looked at her, puzzled. He walked to her and took her hands. “Yes, there is.” Her eyes met his. “No one has ever told you before how beautiful you are. Sure, they say you’re a beauty, but they don’t know what that truly means. They only see your physical beauty, but I see what else lies there. You’re a good person, Sansa. You should be treated as such.”  
“You’re just saying that, Ser Jaime.” 

“Just Jaime. I’m Jaime, Sansa.” He placed a hand on her chin and said, “And no, I’m not just saying that. Had I my sword at the feast, I might have cut down the idiot king. He may be kin, but he’s a monster.”

Sansa nodded and smiled up at him. Jaime said, “May I kiss you, Sansa? I thought I should ask, I don’t wish for you to do anything you don’t want to.”

She looked at him for a moment before giving him the most timid nod he had ever seen. He leaned down slowly, giving her plenty of time to pull away. She didn’t and their lips met softly. 

A fire seemed to erupt inside of Sansa and she felt it all the way down to her lady parts. She had never felt anything like it. Jaime’s tongue slipped into her mouth and she met it with fervor. His left hand gripped her waist and his metal hand rested against it. Sansa’s arms tentatively slid up his chest to his neck. She wrapped her arms around it, to pull them flush together. She could feel the hardness of his manhood pressing against her stomach. 

“Should we take this to the bed, my lady?” Jaime asked quietly, running his lips over her neck. 

“Yes, my lord.” Sansa smiled at him and he took her hand in his left. 

In front of the large bed, Jaime helped Sansa out of her dress. In her small clothes, she reached for his doublet. In that moment, he knew she was no maiden. She should be much more timid. 

Divested of clothing, they looked at each other for a moment. Jaime’s body was all muscle. Sansa ran her hand along his abdominal muscles, liking the way it felt. Joffrey didn’t have muscle. She looked at Jaime and was surprised with how sweet he was being. He took her hand and helped her on the bed. He climbed on after her and laid next to her. She waited for him to make a move. 

Jaime leaned up on his elbow and ran his hand over her stomach. He slid it up to her breast and tweaked her nippled with his fingers. He met her eyes briefly before leaning down and taking her nipple in his mouth. She let out a gasp in surprise but after nearly a minute of his sucking, she released a soft moan. Jaime’s hand had found her other breast and was playing with the nipple there too. She ran her fingers through his soft, short hair and moaned. Jaime’s hand slid down her body to her center. He circled his finger around her clit before slipping it into her. She gasped and his mouth released her nipple. “Are you okay, my lady?”

She nodded. “Yes, keep going.” 

He smiled and kissed his way down her body. "As my lady commands.”

He settled between her legs and his mouth was on her womanhood before she realized what was happening. She moaned louder than expected and gripped his hair as his finger slid in and out of her. His tongue circled her clit as he licked it thoroughly. She couldn't control her moans as he continued like that for a while. She could feel herself nearing her peak and she tugged on his hair harder. “Don’t stop.”

He smiled against her and continued, enjoying himself. She tugged him up by his hair when it was over and, out of breath, she said, “What was that?”

“Just one of the many pleasures you can experience.” He smiled and kissed her deeply. She could taste herself on his lips but didn’t mind. Jaime's manhood pressed against her entrance and he stared into her eyes as he slipped into her. Sansa wrapped her arms around his shoulders and watched as he held himself up by one hand. His fake right hand was practically useless. He pounded into her and Sansa knew that he had realized she was no maiden; he would have taken it slow for her first time. She knew it. 

Jaime leaned down and kissed her thoroughly as he slammed into her. It wasn't long before they both found their peak and Jaime fell next to her on the bed. The only noise in the silence was their heavy breathing. 

“If you find you’re not ready to bare a child, Sansa, I will acquire moon tea for you.” He said quietly after a while. “I don’t want to put you through something you don’t want. That’s happened enough to you already.”

“I’ve drank enough moon tea in my lifetime.” Sansa whispered. 

Jaime leaned up on the bed, propping himself up on his elbows. “Who made you?”

She kept her eyes averted as she said, “Joffrey.”

His jaw clenched as anger flooded him. “He raped you?” He had already suspected it earlier, but hearing it made his stomach turn. 

“For months, Ser.” She said, finally meeting his fiery gaze. Tears spilled over and she was shaking with her sobs. Jaime pulled her to him and stroked her hair softly. 

“I’m sorry. I never would have let it happen.”

“How?” She asked, pulling away from him as she looked up at his face. 

“I was the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. By my honor, I would never have allowed the king to _rape_ you.”

“You couldn’t have done anything. He’s the king.” Sansa said sadly.

Jaime shook his head. “I’ve killed a king before.”


	3. Robb I

Robb crumpled the letter in his hand as he stared at the wall of the tent, anger brewing inside of him like a winter’s storm. Talisa, laying on the bed, writing a letter of her own, looked up at the sound of the parchment crinkling. She stood and walked to him. “What is it, Robb?”

“They married my sister to the Kingslayer.” He said through clenched teeth. Talisa remained silent and rubbed his back slowly. Finally, she said, “I’m sorry, Robb.”

He turned to her, fury in his eyes. “Is that all you have to say? They married Sansa to the fucking Kingslayer!”

Talisa took a step back from him. She had never seen this side of him. He never lashed out like this. His eyes softened the longer he stared at her, the fire in them simmering to mere embers. “I’m sorry.”

She placed a hand on his shoulder and said, “It’s okay, my king. You’re worried, it’s understandable.” 

He ran a hand through his curls and strode out of the tent to find two of his bannermen standing guard. To one of them, a Bolton man, he said, “Fetch my mother at once.”

“Yes, King Robb.” He answered obediently.

Robb walked back in and sat down at his desk. Talisa stood behind him and asked, “Is there anything I can do?”

“Dress. My mother is coming.” He said, not looking at her. She hurried to find proper clothing. Robb un-crumpled the letter on the table and flattened it as best he could. He turned his head when it was announced that his mother was entering. 

Catelyn Stark stood just inside the tent and looked at her son. “You called for me?”

“Look at this.” He said, offering her the wrinkled parchment. She walked forward and took it from his hand. She had to read it twice to understand what it had meant.

 

_ The Wolf is in the Lion’s den. The Kingslayer has a wife. _

 

“Who sent this?” 

“Varys? Littlefinger? I haven’t the faintest idea.” Robb said. He didn’t care who sent it, he was just glad someone had. 

“We must make for Casterly Rock. We can cut them off before Jaime reaches it with Sansa.” 

“We’ll never make it in time, Robb. We have Edmure’s wedding tomorrow.” His mother replied. 

“Fuck the wedding.” Robb grumbled. “Tell Edmure I am sorry but this is more important. I’ll find him another wife.”

“Walder Frey, Robb…you’ve crossed him once already.” Catelyn warned.

“I’ll deal with Walder Frey.” Robb spat. “If I have to kill the whole lot of them, I will! Sansa is my only priority.”

“What of the war?”

“Fuck the war!”

He sat down, fuming. He placed his elbows on his desk and put his head in his palms.

“Robb, we can’t take Casterly Rock. That’s why we needed Walder Frey in the first place.” Catelyn said slowly, standing on the opposite side of Robb’s desk. She looked at Talisa, who gave her a look saying that the King in the North couldn’t be reasoned with.

“We don’t need to take Casterly Rock.” An idea sprung in his mind. “We’ll take Lannisport. When the Kingslayer sends his guardsmen and bannermen to reclaim the city, I’ll sneak into the castle and slay Jaime Lannister myself.”  
“That’s dangerous, Robb. You don’t know if he’ll do that. He’ll know it’s our men attacking and he’ll know why we’re there. Not to mention he’ll know we’re coming before we’re even halfway there, they have scouts all over the westerlands. We may be caught between Tywin Lannister’s army and the sea if he sends his men from King’s Landing.”

“It’s my decision, Mother.” Robb warned. “None of this would be happening if you hadn’t released the Kingslayer in the first place.”

She hung her head and bowed herself out of the tent without another word. As the tent flap closed, Talisa came to her husband’s side. She took his hand and he looked up at her. She said quietly, “Perhaps your lady mother is right. Crossing Walder Frey again…”

Robb cut her off, “To hells with Walder Frey. I’ve crossed him for love once before and I’ll do it again.” He kissed the back of her hand. “He’s a feeble old man, I’ll deal with him after I remove the Lion’s claws from my sister.”  


Dawn broke the next day and Robb broke his fast with his Northern advisor. “We march on Casterly Rock today.”

Roose Bolton, sitting on his right, looked at him and asked, “Why the Rock?”

“They married Sansa to the Kingslayer. They ride for Casterly Rock soon. If we can cut them off before they reach the Rock, we will kill the Kingslayer and rescue my sister easily.” 

“And if we miss the Kingslayer’s party?” Roose asked, giving Robb a calm and calculated look.

“We sack Lannisport.” 

“How do you propose to do that? Lannisport is the second largest city in the kingdoms and our army has halved since the Karstarks left. We need Walder Frey as an ally.” Roose said. “Edmure should marry the Frey girl and you’ll have the army you need to take the Rock as planned.”

Robb set his fork down and stared at his advisor. “My sister has been married against her will to a Lannister. I will not allow it.”

“You’re acting irrationally. You march on the Rock with a small army and Tywin Lannister will send red cloaks from King’s Landing to stop us before we even reach our destination. It’s two weeks from King’s Landing to Casterly Rock. We are at least three weeks.”

“And what if they delay leaving King’s Landing? They will have to pack their belongings and arrange for them to be brought along. It took my father nearly a week to leave Winterfell after accepting the position of Hand of the King.”

“They may take a few days, but if Sansa pushes to leave, her lord husband will oblige.”

“You don’t know the Kingslayer.”

“I met with him after he lost his hand. He’s a changed man.” Roose’s demeanor hadn’t changed throughout their conversation and Robb gave him a long, hard look.

“He’s still a Lannister. All of them are dangerous.” Robb said, standing. “We march on Casterly Rock. _This morning_. Prepare the army.”


	4. Jaime II

Sansa insisted they leave as soon as possible. Jaime was more than happy to oblige, he wished to get her away from King’s Landing as quick as possible. Joffrey hadn’t been happy that he was losing his plaything; Lord Tywin hadn’t told him that they were leaving so soon after their wedding. Jaime had realized the urgency when he found the king attempting to sneak into their bedchamber late one night to get to Sansa a few days after their wedding. He had nearly sliced the throat of the boy king with the dagger he kept near the bed. Joffrey had not been pleased as he walked away with a small cut on his neck. Jaime took Sansa the very next morning before the break of day with eight of his best red cloaks and his squire, telling the rest of their red cloaks to join them with their belongings as soon as possible. He wouldn’t have Sansa hurt by delaying any longer. 

Jaime made them ride at a hard canter for all of the morning and a better part of the afternoon, wanting to put as much distance between Sansa and the king as possible. As the sky turned pink, he slowed their group and ordered them to stop under the protection of a cluster of trees near the forest. As the red cloaks dismounted and began to set up camp, Jaime helped Sansa from her horse. She nearly collapsed in his arms.

“Are you okay, my lady?” 

“I’ve never been good at riding horses, I’m afraid.” She admitted to him. “I never thought it a skill I would need.”

Jaime smiled gently at her. “I fear you were wrong.”

“As do I.”

“Come, let’s get some food in your belly.” Two red cloaks had already disappeared into the forest to hunt some game for dinner. Jaime gathered wood for a fire as Sansa sat on a log, waiting for warmth. It had been a cold, misty day and she felt a shiver run through her spine, thinking that Joffrey had sent riders after them to bring her back. 

Jaime crouched in front of Sansa and built the fire. Flames danced before her eyes in no time and her husband sat next to her on the log, warming his hands. 

“Lord Lewys will receive us in Deep Den but until then, there are few inns to stay at. We will spend many-a night beneath the stars, my lady.” Jaime said. “I apologize for the chill that will set in your bones on the way to the Rock.”

Sansa leaned against him and wrapped her arms around his right arm, resting her head against his shoulder. “You’ll do your best to keep me warm, I’m sure, my lord.”

Jaime looked sideways at her as best he could. She had become so bold when it concerned him. She even took charge in their most recent romp, the previous night. She should hate him, hate him for all that he and his family has done to her family and her. But all that she seemed to have focused on was the fact that her marriage to him was saving her from Joffrey’s brutality. She was able to forgive the rest of it if she could escape the king. 

Jaime kissed her forehead as his squire, Josmyn Peckledon, came over, holding a scroll. “A raven just came, my lord.”

“And?” He asked, taking the scroll from him.

“The Young Wolf marches on us.”

Jaime stiffened and unrolled the scroll against his knee with his left hand. 

 

_ His howl fills the air and his teeth are sharp to take the Lion’s head. _

 

He hadn’t thought the boy would be foolish enough to do this. “Who sent this?” 

“Walder Frey.” The boy said. “The King in the North broke another pact with him and the old man demands blood.”

Jaime looked at Sansa. She was confused as he handed her the scroll so she could read it herself. She asked, “He wants your head, why?”

“He hates me. Simple as that.” Jaime said. He added bitterly, “And he will want to take you back, no doubt.”

“Back?” She asked, frowning. “I’m your wife. Does he know that?”

“That is why he marches on us, my dear.” Jaime said, wrapping his arm around her. “He thinks I have my claws in you.”

“If I could speak to Robb. Tell him that it is much the other way around. I have my claws in you, Ser. You have saved me from the king. I will never be able to repay you for that.” Sansa said, looking away from his shyly. 

“There’s no need to repay me, I am your husband.” He said, smiling. He tipped her by the chin to force her to look at him. “Besides, I promised your mother I would get you to safety.”

“Is that where we’re going, Ser Jaime? To safety?”

“Yes. No one will harm you again, my lady.” Sansa leaned up and kissed him full on the mouth. The young squire blushed and walked away. Jaime smiled against her lips but pulled away as he heard the crunch of boots in the grass. Brienne of Tarth and Ser Samwell Spicer had returned from their hunt. They had skinned the rabbits and set them over the fire to cook. 

Jaime and Sansa sat in silence as they watched the meat cook, their stomaches growling. Jaime hadn’t wanted to stop at all all day for fear of Joffrey sending men after them. The more distance between King’s Landing and them, the better. They would leave again before break of day on the morrow and ride all day again.

Ser Tybolt Crakehall pulled up another log to rest across the fire from Jaime and Sansa’s. His two younger brothers, Ser Lyle the Strongboar and Ser Merlon, sat on either side of him. Jaime’s squire sat next to Jaime on the ground. Ser Steffon Swyft was patrolling the woods with Ser Peter Plumm. Ser Robert Brax finished setting up the camp before joining them around the fire. 

As the rabbits finished and they feasted on the meat, Strongboar asked, “What are we to do about the Young Wolf, my lord?”

All eyes were on Jaime, even his young wife’s. Jaime chewed the meat in his mouth as he thought. Upon swallowing, he said, “If they reach us before we arrive at the Rock, we are all dead except for Lady Sansa.”

“If I can speak to Robb…” Sansa began.

Brienne said, “Your brother will not be reasoned with. He only sees the wrongs of House Lannister, my lady.”

“But if I can tell him I am in no danger…”

“It will not work, Lady Sansa.” Ser Robert said. “You do not understand the minds of men. Once an idea is there, it is there to stay.”

“Your brother is out for blood and he will not stop until blood is repaid in his mind.” Jaime said, looking at his wife. Sansa sighed and nodded. 

“You won’t destroy my brother’s army, will you?”

Jaime frowned as he said, “I don’t know, Sansa.” 

 

That night, as they lay in their tent together, Jaime couldn’t stop thinking of Robb Stark’s stupidity. Sansa was safe with Jaime. The real danger for her was back in King’s Landing. She had escaped it. Now her brother was bringing new danger to her. Robb was putting her and Jaime in danger and was threatening Jaime’s life. Sansa rolled over and wrapped herself against Jaime. She saw that he was awake and staring at the ceiling, his head resting on his arm that was bent back. She reached up and ran her hand over the light stubble forming on his face. He hadn’t shaved since their wedding and she surprisingly liked it.

Jaime looked down at her touch and she saw worry in his eyes. She sat up and placed her hand on his chest. His arm with the metal hand curled around her waist, pulling her more against him. She asked, “What is it?”

“I wonder if you would be safer in King’s Landing.”

She shook her head. “I’m safer with you.”

He frowned, it affected his whole face. “I don’t know about that, my dear. Your brother wants my head.”

“I won’t let him take it.” She said, placing a kiss on his furrowed brow. “You are mine and I am yours.”

He smiled sadly at her. “You can’t stop an army, Sansa. Just pray we reach Casterly Rock before your brother is upon us.”

“I lost my faith long ago, my lord.” She said, resting her head on his chest as she wrapped her arms around him.

He just nodded. He had lost his too, having seen such horrible things in battle. He figured his last shred of faith had left him when Aerys Targaryen ordered his pyromancer to burn the city nearly 20 years ago. Driving his sword through the king’s back had sealed his future as a faithless man. 

“We should get some sleep, we have a long day of riding tomorrow.” Jaime said quietly. Sansa nodded against his chest. Neither of them closed their eyes. Sansa traced circles in his chest hair as Jaime continued to stare at the ceiling, thinking of all of the possible ways Robb Stark could kill him if his army beat them to Casterly Rock. 

He felt wetness on his chest and knew that Sansa was crying but he didn’t want to mention it. She was being strong, taking this new life that was thrown at her in stride. She was a resilient woman and Jaime admired her for it. She wouldn’t have lasted as long as she did in the capital if she wasn’t one.

He said quietly, in something less than a whisper, “I was the Lion in the Wolf’s den while you were the Wolf in the Lion’s den.” He felt her wipe her tears. “Now what are we, Lady Stark?”

“Lannister.” She whispered back.

“What?” He looked down at her as best he could, only seeing the top of her auburn hair.

She pushed off his chest and looked at him. “I’m Sansa Lannister now. I may be a Stark, but no longer in name.”

“You will always be a Stark to me.”

“Why do you say that?”

“The Starks are courageous, honorable. Nothing like the Lannisters. Someone once said we have a lust for power, that we’re arrogant.”

“And is that person dead?”

“No. Alive and well.” Jaime said, smiling. “That person was your mother.”

“My mother?”  
“Yes, she said it to my brother Tyrion.”

“Do you believe her right?”

“About my house? Absolutely. About me? Not anymore.” Jaime said quietly. After several moments, he said, “I was once as arrogant as can be. Possibly the most arrogant man in the Seven Kingdoms. I loved someone I shouldn’t have, fathered children who never should have been conceived. Everyone once thought me the brave hero who fought with honor on the battlefield. Then Rhaegar Targaryen stole your aunt from Robert Baratheon and started the damn war. And I stabbed Aerys through the back then slit his throat for good measure. I’ve been the Kingslayer ever since.”

Sansa spoke in barely a whisper, running her hand along his jaw, “Why did you kill the king?”

He frowned. “Do you want the long story or the short one, my lady?”

“Do it justice, my lord husband.”

He smiled and chose his words carefully. “The Mad King was obsessed with wildfire, he loved the way people burned, how their skin blackened and melted from their bones. He burned those he didn’t like, no matter their nobility. Your grandfather was one such nobleman. He had his pyromancer place caches of wildfire all over the city when he realized half the country was against him. The day came when Robert Baratheon marched on the capital after his victory at the Trident and after killing the king’s eldest son and heir. My father arrived first with our whole army at his back, he promised to defend the city against the rebels, but I knew him better than that. I urged the king to surrender. Aerys didn’t listen to me nor Varys, who warned him against my father’s true motives; he listened instead to Grand Maester Pycelle. We opened the gates and my father sacked the city.

“Again, I urged Aerys to surrender. He told me to bring him my father’s head. He then turned to his pyromancer and said, ‘Burn them all. Burn them in their homes. Burn them in their beds.’ I couldn’t stand by and let thousands of men, women, and children burn alive. How could I? I wouldn’t keep my oath, not then. I killed the pyromancer as he ran to set the town afire. And then, when the king turned to flee, I drove my sword into his back. He kept repeating, ‘Burn them all. Burn them all.’ I think he intended to burn with the rest of us and be reborn into a dragon to turn the rest of his enemies to ash. He meant to set all of Westeros aflame.” 

Sansa’s eyes hadn’t left his as he spoke. He placed a hand on her cheek and said, “They call me the Kingslayer as an insult, Sansa. But, killing Aerys Targaryen was the proudest moment of my life.”

“Are there things you’re not proud of?” She turned from his hand and pulled away from him. He knew what she was talking about, of course. He let her withdraw from him, he deserved it. 

“In war?” He asked. “No.”

“No, not in war.”

“I’m not proud of a lot of things, Sansa. Most involve your family.” He said sadly. “One of my biggest regrets is attacking your father in the streets of King’s Landing. I’ve always been quick to act on my temper and my family meant a great deal to me then. But, I feel that I am at fault for your father’s death.

“And then there’s Bran.” Sansa saw how pained he was as she looked back at him. “I pushed him from the window because he saw Cersei and I…in a compromising position. It is my biggest regret to this day, my lady.”

Sansa turned around and slapped her lord husband across the face so hard that it would leave a mark for days to come. She then turned over with her back facing him. She was silent but Jaime could see her shoulders shaking slightly. Jaime turned his head and stared at the ceiling again, wishing that he had never opened his mouth, but he was a little glad that it was all out in the open. Honesty, he had been told, was important to a relationship. He ran a hand over his face, feeling the sting of the slap. It may hurt, but she was hurting worse. He said quietly, “I’m sorry, Sansa.” 

She remained silent. He turned to her, propping himself up on his side, placing his head in his metal hand. He didn’t want her to go to bed angry at him, she would dream of her brother falling from the broken tower or her father’s execution. “Sansa. _Please._ ”

She turned to him, he saw the tears in her eyes and along her cheeks. She looked at the redness on his cheek, just below his left eye. She said, “Go back to that day in Winterfell. Don’t _fuck_ your twin sister. Don’t push Brandon Stark out of the window. Don’t maim my father in the street. Don’t lead an army against my brother…”

It all sounded so much more harsh coming from Sansa. Jaime took her face in his hands. She shivered at the coldness of the metal. “Sansa, if I could change the past, I would. I was a cruel, vain idiot. But you have to know, I did it all for love and family. Is there anything you wouldn’t do for love and family?”

“Yes.” She was looking at him coldly. He wondered what she was thinking but he had a feeling it was along the lines of hurting him like he had hurt her.

“You are my family now. You’re my only love.” He said sincerely.

“Oh? What of Cersei?”

“What of her?”

“You don’t love her?”

“After all she did to me? She cheated on me, humiliated me, lied to me.” He said, looking into Sansa’s eyes. “I couldn’t love her again.”

Sansa continued to frown as her blue eyes meeting Jaime’s green. “But you did love her.”

“Yes.” He admitted. “Everything they said about us is true. The king, the prince, and the princess are all mine. None of them should exist but if we were the Targaryens, no one would bat an eye. But since we’re the Lannisters, the proud fucking Lannisters, everyone is _disgusted_ by us. I am too. I just hope you can forgive me.”

She didn’t know what to say. She knew that it was all true. She knew it when she married him. She knew it because her father had said it. Her father had been a honest man and wouldn’t have accused Cersei of it had it not been true. But, Jaime wasn’t that man anymore, Sansa knew it. She leaned her head into his real hand and closed her eyes. “I hope I can too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to end the chapter after the slap but then I watched the finale of Season 5 and didn’t want Jaime and Sansa to be too mad at each other because their lives went to shit in the show. (RIP everyone)


	5. Sansa II

The bruise on his face was as noticeable as his green eyes, his blond hair, or his tanned skin. He rode to her right so she could see it every time she glanced at him. She felt ashamed when she saw it but then she remembered why she had done it and her guilt dissolved in an instant. It had been over a week since the incident yet the bruise wasn’t fading, neither was her anger at him.

They neared Deep Den, the seat of House Lydden; they would reach it in time for supper. Sansa’s stomach growled in hunger as the sun began to set, changing to an odd orange. She could see the Den in the distance and wished they would ride faster. The mountain at its back, the castle stood tall and formidable. Sansa hadn’t felt safe since she left Winterfell years ago, but she felt that the castle ahead would provide some sense of security.

Jaime hadn’t looked at her since they set off early that morning. He had placed her on her horse, pulled himself onto his, and cantered off. The couple rode in silence all day, Sansa listening to the talk of the men rather than engage in conversation with her lord husband. 

The Crakehall brothers were a lively group. Ser Lyle the Strongboar was a loud, proud man who thirsted for blood. He talked of killing the Hound and Ser Brynden the Blackfish specifically. Sansa wished to know the reason behind it, but she didn’t want to ask. Truthfully, he frightened her. His elder brother, Ser Tybolt, was a nicer man, quiet except when spoken to. She thought he would be a good leader and wondered if he had commanded garrisons earlier in the war. The younger brother, Ser Merlon, seemed to be there just to do his duty and because his brothers had told him he had to be apart of their convoy. They had been separated for the first part of the war and the Crakehalls wished to be together again. She didn’t blame them, she longed to be reunited with her family. And if there was any truth to that message several days ago, they marched to reclaim her. 

She wondered what they would do to Jaime or what he would do to them. She wished the animosity between the Starks and Lannisters would disappear so she could be happy with both her lord husband and her mother and brothers. It would have to begin with her; she vowed to forgive Jaime for his transgressions when they finally would be able to talk at Deep Den in their chamber.

Lord Lewys Lydden waited at the gate of Deep Den to greet them personally. His banner, a white badger on a brown and green field, stood next to him in the dirt. “Ser Jaime! Lady Sansa! Welcome to the Den.”

“Many thanks, Lord Lewys.” Jaime said as they road into the courtyard and dismounted. He clasped Lewys’ hand and smiled. “We’ve had a long ride from King’s Landing and this is the first chance of a real bed.”

“Stuffed with feathers just for you, Ser.” Lord Lewys’ voice oozed charm just for the Kingslayer. 

“We thank you for your hospitality, my lord.” Sansa said as Ser Peter Plumm, a large man with a thick neck, helped her from her horse. She wished it was her lord husband’s hands on her waist but she didn’t complain. His men were nice enough.

“You are most welcome, my lady.” Lord Lewys said, smiling at her. “Come, let us feast.”

The meal was large and lengthy, Sansa sat next to Ser Jaime at the head table at the end of the hall. Lord Lewys was on his left in the seat of House Lydden. Their men and Brienne sat at a table below theirs, feasting like kings and queens. Lord Lewys’ household was littered throughout the hall, watching their guests warily. Anywhere the Kingslayer went, trouble followed, they felt.

Sansa sat in silence and waited until the feast ended and it was time to go to bed. As Jaime rose, Lord Lewys grabbed his arm. “News from the capital, my lord.”

Jaime looked at Sansa and she knew she was to make her leave. A cousin of Lord Lewys showed her to her and Jaime’s chamber, bidding her a goodnight. She dressed for bed and climbed into it, sinking into the feathers. After a week of hard riding and bed mats on the cold ground, the comfort of a real bed was a nice change. 

She heard the door open when she was nearly asleep. The crash of a chair being knocked over caused her to open her eyes and sit up. Jaime stood over the broken chair with his back to her. His shoulders were tense but she could see them lightly shaking. _He’s crying_.

“Jaime.” Sansa said softly when she saw his fist clench like he was ready to punch something. He turned to her, tears in his eyes. She flung the blankets off of her and swung her legs out of the bed. She walked across the stone floor with trepidation, fearing he would strike her in his rage. His face was screwed up in pain, the tears flowing freely as he didn’t try to hide them. “What is it, Jaime?”

“They killed him at his own wedding.” His voice was quiet as he spoke, barely a whisper. It croaked with distress.

“Who?” She asked, taking his hands gingerly in her own. They were shaking and she tried to steady them.

“My…son. Joffrey. They poisoned him at his own wedding!” He yelled suddenly. She shrank away from him and released his hands. Jaime walked over to the bed and sat down, putting his face in his hand. Sansa approached him quietly and sat down next to him. 

She placed a hand on his shoulder and took it as a good sign that he didn’t shrug it off. “Who did it, Jaime?”

He raised his head and looked at her. “They say Tyrion but I don’t believe it for a second. Sure, he hated the lad but he would never kill him, certainly not at his own wedding.”

Sansa ran her hand through the back of his hair gently, trying to calm him. “Who then?”  
“The Tyrells, maybe. Surely they didn’t truly wish for Margaery to be wed to my monster of a son. Margaery just wanted to be queen. A true queen, not what she was with Renly.” Jaime said. 

He was quiet for several minutes, staring at the ground as she played with his hair softly. She said, “We can turn around and ride for King’s Landing, if you wish.”

Jaime looked at her and shook his head. “No. There’s nothing I can do for Joffrey now. Tyrion is his own man, a half-man, but a man nonetheless. He will figure a way out of the trial, I’m sure.”  
“What of Tommen?”  
“He’ll be fine. Father will groom him for his kingship.” Jaime said, taking her hand in his. “What I can do is keep you safe. We will continue for Casterly Rock as planned.”

She looked at her hand in his and smiled. “Why are you working so hard to protect me?”  
He placed his metal hand under her chin and forced her to look at him. “Why wouldn’t I? You’re my wife.”

“I’m a Stark. My brother marches his army on you because I’m your wife.” Sansa said quietly. “Neither of us wanted this.”

“I know. But I don’t hate you. I could never hate you, even when you ignore me for days on end.” He wasn’t looking at her now, but his metal hand still rested under her chin. She had grown to like the coolness of its touch.

“I’m sorry, Jaime.” She said quietly. She reached up and ran her hand lightly over the purple bruise on his face. “I was upset…”

“Don’t apologize. You have every right to be mad at me. I’ve inflicted horrors upon your family. By all logic, you should hate me. You shouldn’t allow me into your bed. You should want to be as far away from me as possible.”

“I remember you riding through the east gate of Winterfell.” She said quietly. He let his metal hand drop to his side as he looked at her. “You looked so handsome in your white armor. Like the knights that I read of in my books as a child. I always dreamed I would marry a real knight.” She placed her hand on his cheek affectionately, brushing her thumb over his skin, feeling the scrape of his stubble on her palm. “And now I have.”

“You don’t hate me simply because I’m a knight?” He laughed.

“No, Ser. I don’t hate you because you’re sweet. You protect me. You’re my husband.” She smiled at him. “You may be the Kingslayer but I know now why you slayed Aerys Targaryen. You’re honorable, Jaime. People don’t understand that about you.”

He grinned and shook his head. “No, I suppose they don’t. And they likely never will.”

“They will. I’ll make sure of it.”

They stayed like that for a while, their hands clasped and her hand on his cheek. Sansa leaned forward and placed her forehead against his. He whispered, breathing the same air as her, “I will not meet Robb on a battlefield. If I do, it will be with a white flag of surrender.”

“Jaime…”

“Sansa, if you wish to go with your family, I will not stop you.”

“What I wish, Ser, is to live happily with you in Casterly Rock. I wish for my family to visit and for the Lannisters and Starks to get along.”

“I’m unsure of the likelihood of that.” Jaime said quietly. “But if you can make it happen, I’m willing to make amends with your family.”

Sansa kissed him suddenly. Jaime was taken aback by it and didn’t respond. She pulled away from him and for once, she didn’t look shy. Jaime ran his real hand over her cheek and curled it around her neck, pulling her against him. His lips crashed against hers and wrapped his metal hand around her waist. Sansa wrapped her arms around his neck and straddled his hips.

Surprised as he was, Jaime kissed her with zeal. Sansa’s lips moved against his like she hungered for them, for him. She tugged at the strings of his leather tunic and helped him pull it off, along with his under tunic. She ran her hand along his chest, still surprised at the muscles he possessed. Jaime smiled at her before unlacing her shift and pulling it over her head. Naked, she slid off of his lap, her feet landing on the floor. Jaime stood and walked to her, kissing her passionately. He undid the laces of his breeches and they fell in a puddle on the ground. Sansa wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling their naked bodies together. Jaime backed them up to the bed and lowered her onto it. 

He hovered over her and ran his thumb over her lip, he looked at it with a hunger that only she could satisfy. He leaned down and kissed her but she pushed him away. She asked, “Can you do that thing with your mouth again?” She motioned down to her womanhood with a blush and he smiled, kissing her lips quickly before kissing his way down her body. He settled between her legs and looked up at her under hooded lids as he ran his tongue over her womanhood. She slid her hand into his hair and held on tight as he sucked on her clit. He slid two fingers into her and she let out a loud moan, her fingernails scraping his scalp. Jaime filled his mouth with the taste of her. Soon enough, after mere minutes of his ministrations, Sansa was lost in the throes of passion. 

Sansa pulled him up by his hair and kissed him, gasping into his mouth as his manhood entered her. He thrust into her hard, gripping her breast with his left hand and flicking her nipple with his thumb. Sansa moaned and held onto his shoulders as he fucked her as hard and as deep as he could. Sweat glistened on his forehead and his eyes were closed, lost to the pleasure that was spreading through him. Sansa ran her hand along his jaw and his eyes flashed open, they were wild and he meant to devour her. He leaned down and claimed her lips, biting her lower one between his teeth. She gripped his hair tightly as she felt him tense up. Her name tumbled from his lips as he released inside of her. He lowered himself gently on top of her, their sweaty bodies forming one as they fought to control their breathing. He rolled off of her but didn’t go far. 

Jaime lay with his head on her breast, rubbing small circles on her hip with his thumb. His breath on her skin tickled but she didn’t mind. She ran her fingers lazily through his hair and along his stubble, realizing that she could get used to this. She could love a Lannister. 


	6. Jaime III

He decided to keep them at Deep Den for an extra day. He needed to clear his head and figure out what he truly wanted to do. He had told Sansa they would continue riding for Casterly Rock but, when he woke, he wasn’t sure if that was where his heart wanted to lead him.

He sat in Lord Lewys’ solar, thankful that the Lord of Deep Den allowed him the use of the room. Jaime stared at the parchment that had brought the dark news of his brother’s arrest and his son’s death. _Why did I react that way? Joffrey was a terrible, abusive asshole. He raped Sansa! Gods, why do I mourn him?_ Jaime knew that he should be fearing for Tyrion but his brother was resourceful. He wondered if the little man would call for another trial by combat to forgo the standard trial. With his father leading it, as Jaime was certain he would be, Tyrion was as good as dead. 

At first, he wondered what Cersei was thinking, then he remembered that she hated their little brother, she always had. The letter said that she had accused him immediately, even as she held their dead son in her arms. He wondered if he would be able to reason with her and their father if he were to return to King’s Landing. _Certainly not._

Jaime stared at the letters on the note, wishing that they would rearrange themselves into something better, happier news. He crumpled the paper up suddenly and tossed it across the room. It flew by Sansa, who was curled up in a chair near the window with a book. He had forgotten she was with him in the solar. She looked up at him, surprised. He muttered, “My apologies.”

“It’s okay, my lord.” She said, smiling at him. She turned her attention back to her book, some old tome about Ser Wilbert Osgrey and his fight against King Lancel V Lannister. The Little Lion, as he was called, killed the King of the Rock even as he himself was dying, finding a gap in Lancel’s armor with his dagger. Sansa had told him she loved stories of valiant knights, Jaime had found this one in the library for her that morning. He had figured reading of another death of a Lannister would be a happy subject for her. 

“Wouldn’t you rather be out walking the garden? I’m surely a bore in here.” Jaime said, leaning on the desk. 

“You’re not a bore, Jaime. And I would only enjoy the gardens if you were with me.” She said quietly. She seemed to have grown quite fond of her husband; Jaime wondered if they were true feelings or if she was just resigning herself to love him since she had no other option. He figured he would never know. 

Jaime stood from behind the desk and walked to her. He held his real hand out for the book and his metal one out for her hand. She smiled at him as she handed over the book. She took his metal hand and pulled herself up from the chair. Jaime offered her his arm and set the book on the desk as they passed it on the way out the door. He led her through the castle, passing several handmaidens and servants. He was glad that they didn’t run into Lord Lewys, he didn’t wish to talk about the situation in King’s Landing just yet with him.

As they stepped out into the fresh air, Jaime closed his eyes, breathing it in. 

“Are you well, my lord?” Sansa asked, her grip on his arm tightening.

His eyes opened and he looked down at her. “Yes. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“With all going on in your family, it wouldn’t be unheard of for you to fall ill.” 

Jaime shook his head. “I’m quite fine, Sansa.”

She looked away from him and gazed at the gardens as she said, “You weren’t fine last night.”

He began to walk with her, thinking of how to explain it to her. She had lost people, she should understand it. “Sansa, you’ve lost your father, two brothers, and your sister, can’t you sympathize?”

Her eyes shot to his. “No. I can’t. It’s Joffrey! He raped me for months, Jaime! You said yourself that you would have killed him had you been in King’s Landing and known about it.” She pushed him down onto a stone bench in the center of the garden and sat next to him. “Why do you mourn the king who raped your wife? Who beat your wife? Who might have killed your wife had I stayed longer!”

Jaime frowned as he looked at her. He took her right hand in his left. “I’m sorry, Sansa.” He raised her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it, letting his lips linger against her skin. When he looked at her, she was blushing beautifully. “What is it?”

“I can’t be mad at you.” Her face was screwed up in disbelief. He understood why she was surprised; she should be furious with him.

“Do you feel like you’re betraying your family by being with me?” He asked, running his thumb over the joint that connected her thumb and index finger. “You were forced into this. They know that. They’re fighting for you. Don’t upset yourself over it.” 

Her Tully blue eyes were full of sadness. He wished more than anything that he could take away her sorrow and make it all his own, simply to save her from it. 

Jaime’s tone was gentle when he spoke next. “Sansa, you were treated cruelly by my family. I will never be able to apologize enough for it. But they are my blood. You can’t choose your family and, in the most roundabout conversation ever, that is why I mourn Joffrey. He was my son; I must have loved him deep down. It’s confusing for me, Sansa, I admit. I wish I didn’t care for the monster, but I do.” Her mouth opened to protest but he said, “Yes, I would have killed him for you, but that is only because I care for you more.”

Her mouth closed as she looked at him. A peculiar expression washed over her face the longer she looked upon his. _Admiration? Or could it be love?_ Jaime waited for her to say something. She didn’t though. She spoke with her lips, pressing them against his. Jaime was surprised but kissed her back. Her hand squeezed his and he felt relief flood him to his core, he was starting to feel like she wasn’t going to kill him in his sleep. 

Someone cleared their throat near them and Jaime and Sansa broke apart. Brienne of Tarth stood a few feet away, her arms behind her back. Jaime said, “What can I do for you, Brienne?”

“Lord Lewys wishes to speak with you.” Jaime sighed and looked at his wife.

“Will you excuse me, my lady?” He asked, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand. 

“Of course, Ser.” She said, quietly. She seemed sad he was leaving. He didn’t understand her, her feelings toward him changed by the hour. 

He left Sansa in the garden, he and Brienne past Lord Lewys’ young daughter as they left; Sansa would have someone to talk to at least. Jaime followed Brienne to the castle.

She was silent as they walked and he felt uncomfortable with it. They hadn’t talked much since she delivered him to King’s Landing over a month ago. He broke the silence, “Does something bother you, Brienne?”

She looked at him and said, “The Stark girl seems fond of you, Jaime.”

“Why shouldn’t she? I’m her husband.”

Brienne gave him a look. “You’re a Lannister.” 

“Far from the worst, wouldn’t you say?” He had a cocky smile on his face as his eyes met Brienne’s. She fought a smile, it tugged at her lips with all its might. It reminded him of their time traveling. She had seen him at his worst, covered in shit and piss. She had ridden alongside him as he was near death, just after losing his sword hand. Back then he had wished he had died, wished they had cut off his head rather than his hand. It would have been more of a mercy to slit his throat than maim him. But now, he had a beautiful wife who seemed to care for him and he would be Lord of Casterly Rock when his father died. 

Brienne pulled him out of his reverie when she agreed, “Far from the worst.” 

“The worst is laying dead in the Great Sept of Baelor.” Jaime said quietly. 

“He was a Baratheon.” 

“Was he?”

Brienne looked at him, a frown on her face. “So it’s true.”

“Yes, it’s true.” Jaime admitted as they neared Lord Lewys’ solar, the place he had left not half an hour ago. “I’ve done terrible things in my life, most of them you’ve had the pleasure of knowing, and being with Cersei is the most terrible thing I’ve ever done or will ever do.”

“You’ve done honorable things too, Jaime.” Brienne reminded him.

“I’ve far more horrors behind me than pleasantries.” Jaime said. 

“You are keeping Sansa Stark safe, as you promised to her mother.”

“My second good deed.” His first was murdering the late King Aerys. 

Brienne left him at the door and Jaime entered without knocking. Lord Lewys sat behind the desk and Jaime noticed that he hadn’t moved the book on Ser Wilbert Osgrey from the edge. He sat across from the Lord of Deep Den and Lord Lewys looked up at him from the parchment in his hands. _Another raven’s note._ Lord Lewys leaned across the desk to hand it to him, saying, “More news from King’s Landing.”

Jaime read the words on the parchment and muttered, “She can’t be serious.”

 

_ Jaime, _

 

_ You are hereby summoned to King’s Landing. You are to sit as one of the judges in the trial of Tyrion Lannister, the Imp, alongside Lord Tywin Lannister and Prince Oberyn Martell. The trial begins in less than a fortnight; make haste, dear brother. _

_ Cersei _

 

He wished to tear her note up into dozens of pieces but he looked at Lord Lewys instead. “Have you a pen and parchment?” 

The lord handed over a small piece of parchment, a quill pen, and a bottle of ink. Jaime leaned over the desk and held the pen awkwardly in his left hand. With an uneasy and sloppy hand, and knowing that Lewys was watching his every move, Jaime wrote, 

 

_ Queen Regent Cersei Lannister, _

 

_ I have no regrets as I inform you that I will not return to King’s Landing. I am to continue for Casterly Rock as planned with my wife. I have no interest in joining the unjust trial our dear brother is to be subjected to. You know Tyrion didn’t do it, you would drop the charges had you any brain. _

 

_ Ser Jaime Lannister _

 

“I must send this at once.” Jaime said, rolling up the parchment. 

“The Queen Regent will not be amused by your slight.” Lord Lewys said, capping the ink bottle. 

“I have no care for her, Lewys.” Jaime said, standing from the desk. He grabbed the book as he walked away, for Sansa. He exited the solar to find the maester to send the letter. 

He returned to his chamber after, to find Sansa sitting in the window. “Sansa, what are you doing here?”

“My lord.” She said, quietly. She stood from her spot and said, “Gertie Lydden is a bore. I’d rather be alone than with her.”

“Shall I leave you?” He asked, turning toward the door.

She shook her head profusely. “No. What did Lord Lewys want?”

Jaime walked to her and gave her the note he had received. She read it over and said, “We must go.”

Jaime shook his head and said, “No. I told her we were continuing for Casterly Rock.” 

“You should not have done that, Jaime. That was a royal summon!” 

“She simply called me ‘Jaime’ and signed it ‘Cersei,’ had she meant to royally summon me it would have been ‘Ser Jaime Lannister’ and ‘Queen Regent Cersei Lannister,’ as I titled and ended my letter.” Jaime replied, taking his wife’s hand in his. “All will be well, my lady.”

“I hope so, Ser.” Sansa said quietly. “I don’t wish to end up like Joffrey.”


	7. Robb II

The Stark army marched in haste toward Casterly Rock. Robb pushed his men to their breaking point day in and day out, but none complained. They were to rescue his last living sibling, the only one they knew for sure was alive. The other three were in the wind or dead and Jon wasn’t a full sibling so his men didn’t think of him at all. 

Their arrival at Riverrun couldn’t have come sooner, his queen had fallen ill over their journey. Her belly grew and she was becoming more weary by the day. But they were getting so close to Lannisport and Casterly Rock that Robb could taste the Kingslayer’s blood. He wouldn’t slow for his wife.

The maester visited them in their chambers after supper and, as he examined the queen, Robb continued the argument they had been having for nearly a week, “You’ll stay here.”

“I will not.” Talisa said defiantly. 

“You will, I won’t be worrying over your safety. You’re with child, you need to start acting it.”

“You need rest, my queen.” The maester agreed.

“Listen to the man of learning.” Robb said. It was more of a warning than a suggestion. 

“Fine, but I won’t be confined to this chamber.”

“I wouldn’t dare say that.” Robb said, smiling at the bold woman from Volantis he had married. There was a knock on the door and Ser Brynden Tully entered. He was smiling and Robb thought how odd it looked on the old man’s normally sullen face. 

“My king, you have a visitor.” The Blackfish said, beckoning his great-nephew to follow him. Robb gave Talisa a look before departing after the man. The Blackfish led him to the Great Hall when Robb was met with a peculiar sight. 

Sandor Clegane was struggling against three of his men, who barely managed to hold the large man. He cursed and pulled against the arms of the men, his muscles bulging. Catelyn Stark stood off to the side, tears in her eyes as she looked at the young girl next to her. Robb had to do a double take but he was sure it was her. She was thinner than when he had last seen her and she had already been a pole then. Robb could see lithe muscles beneath her thin shirt. “Arya?”

“Robb!” His youngest sister ran to him, crossing the large room in six bounds, to be swept up in his arms. He held her tight against his chest and forced himself not to shed a tear, he didn’t want his men to see him cry. Arya smelled of horse and filth but he didn’t care, he held her for longer than he cared to admit. 

When he finally released her, he said, “We thought you dead.”

“I escaped King’s Landing with the help of Yoren of the Night’s Watch.”

“Then what happened to you? How did you end up with the Hound?” Robb asked, eying the man suspiciously.

“Yoren was killed by Lannister men. We were taken prisoner to Harrenhal but I escaped with the help of a Braavosi man. My friends and I were captured by the Brotherhood Without Banners and just when they were about to let us go, they brought _him_ in and he told them who I was.” She said it all in a rush, wanting to tell him as fast as possible. She shot the Hound a nasty look. “They kept me in hopes of getting money from you for their cause but I escaped when they sent my…friend away. _He_ took me prisoner and he had hoped to ransom me ever since.”

Robb turned to her captor. “Is it ransom you seek?”

“Aye, it is.” The Hound barked. 

“Then it is ransom you will have.” Robb said. He saw a grisly smile stretch across the scarred face. Robb walked toward him and to his bannermen said, “Release him.”

“But…”

“No but. I said release him. Or do you dare disobey your king?” He challenged. The three men released the man and stepped away. Robb looked up at the Hound and said, “We march on the Rock. I hear you told the king to fuck off. Do you still hate the Lannisters?”

“Aye, I do. That doesn’t mean I like you any better.” 

Robb actually smiled. “I didn’t think you would. But I hear you protected my sister, Sansa, in King’s Landing. Saved her from rapers once and the king more times than that. It is her we aim to take from the Lion’s claws. Will you join us?”

Sandor Clegane didn’t need long to think it over. He had nothing better to do and his little bird was in danger. “I will.”

“Robb, you can’t!” Arya screamed.

Her mother rounded on her. “Has he harmed you in any way, Arya? This man has done our family a kindness in returning you to us.”  
“A kindness, woman?” The Hound scoffed. “I did it for the gold.”

“Gold or not, you have given me one sister. Now you will help me retrieve the other.” Robb said. He turned to his mother and sister, “Leave us. We have matters to discuss.”

“Robb…” Arya said, tears in her eyes.

“We’ll speak later, little one. Now, go.” Robb said, smiling at her. Their mother had to drag Arya from the hall. Robb looked to Roose Bolton, standing silently against the wall, and the Blackfish. He beckoned them and the Hound to the long table in the center of the room. “Sit.” 

They sat at one end, Robb at the head, Roose to his right, Ser Brynden to his left, and the Hound next to him. To Sandor Clegane, Robb asked, “Have you any knowledge of Casterly Rock?”

“Yes.” He answered gruffly. 

“And? What of it?” Ser Brynden asked, glaring at the man.

“I was practically raised there myself. Came into Tywin Lannister’s service when I was 10 or 11 after my brother took control of our holdfast. I wished not for the man who had burned half of my face off in charge of my life. Tywin took me in as part of his household and allowed me to train with the master-at-arms. I think Lannister wished for me to become a mini-Gregor.”

“As you did.” Roose commented.

“I’ll never be like my brother.” The Hound said, eyebrows furrowed.

“Enough of it. What of the Rock? You know it well?” Robb asked.

“Better than King’s Landing.” The Hound nodded.

“Good.” Robb said, smiling. “We can use that knowledge.”

Robb gave Roose Bolton and Ser Brynden Tully a look and they knew he wished to be alone with the Hound. They both rose from their seats and left the hall. 

“How’d you know where we were, if I may ask?” Robb asked.

“You may.” The Hound said gruffly. “I met with Walder Frey. Right cunt he is. He told me you betrayed him to march on Casterly Rock. Said you broke another oath.”

“Fuck Walder Frey.” Robb snapped. The Hound seemed surprised by his outburst. Robb took over a minute to calm down. “And you knew the route we would take, Clegane?”

“Knew you would stop at Riverrun, that you would likely break from the road to avoid the Lannister army. They sit near the Golden Tooth, I hear.”

“Aye, they do.” Robb said, nodding. He beckoned one of his men to him and said, “Show the Hound to some chambers.”

The soldier nodded and Sandor Clegane followed him without a word. Robb sat at the table for a few minutes alone, looking at the map. They would be at Casterly Rock within 10 days, they needed to be there faster.

 

Catelyn Stark sat with her youngest daughter near the hearth of the fireplace. Robb entered quietly and when Arya looked up, he didn’t receive a smile this time. Her face was full of anger as she shot daggers at her approaching brother.

“How could you, Robb?” She asked, her voice full of rage.

“For some reason that monster of a man cares for Sansa and he will stop at nothing to take her from Jaime Lannister.” Robb replied, sitting next to her on the floor. 

Arya had tears in her eyes as she looked at him. “Won't Sansa be hurt in the attack? The Kingslayer won’t give her up easy if he has a brain. What if he kills her?”

“He wouldn’t dare.” Catelyn said, trying to convince herself of it. “Sansa is worth more to him alive than dead.”

Robb looked at Arya and said, “Sansa will not be harmed. Clegane and I will sneak into Casterly Rock while Roose Bolton leads our army into Lannisport for the sack. It will be quick, Arya. 

“And if Sansa doesn’t wish to leave Casterly Rock?” Arya asked, staring at Robb hard. He gave her a look as if to say, _why would she do that?_ “Sansa always wanted to marry a valiant knight; you know it, Robb.”

“She has a love for knightly valor, Robb.” Catelyn agreed. “Despite all he has done, the Kingslayer is still a knight. Sansa might have forgiven him for all of his terrible deeds. She is dutiful and smart and will be devoted to Jaime Lannister as his wife.”

“Sansa would be stupid to think the Kingslayer could love her!” Robb’s voice was a snarl. 

“Wits would tell her to not care if he loves her, but to care that he has kept her safe.” Catelyn said. Robb gave her a look. “When I released the Kingslayer, I told him to return Sansa and Arya to us. Now he is her husband, he can do with her as he pleases.”

“You think we should give up and leave Sansa to the Lions?” Robb growled. 

“That is _not_ what I said, Robb.” Catelyn’s eyes narrowed at her son. “Jaime Lannister may still give her to us yet.”

“I wouldn’t hold your breath, Mother.”


	8. Sansa III

Sansa woke next to Jaime the following morning, her mind full of all the ways that Cersei might kill her. She didn’t understand why Jaime had brushed off the note; he of all people should know how dangerous Cersei Lannister was. Sansa remained snuggled against Jaime’s side, her leg over his and her hand on his chest. His handless arm was wrapped around her. He was snoring softly and she had grown fond of the sound over their two weeks of marriage. She found it comforting; a sleeping Lion was a safe Lion. She watched his eyelids flutter as he slept and she felt the strong urge to kiss each of them, to wake him up and confess how she truly felt about him. 

Her affection for Jaime Lannister confused her. He wasn’t a terrible man but he had done terrible things in his past. _So have I,_ she thought as she watched him sleep. Her most terrible acts were loving Joffrey, being unloving toward Arya, not appreciating her father more. His involved killing but she didn’t care, not anymore. She wondered if loving him would be her biggest regret. 

Jaime’s arm tightened around her and she noticed that the snoring had stopped. He pulled her tight against him as his eyes opened; looking into that piercing green, Sansa knew that she couldn’t deny the fact that she loved him. When she set aside the cruelties their Houses had inflicted upon the other and the hatred that came along with it, she realized that he was simply Jaime; so unlike the rest of the Lannisters, a kind man who protected her from harm. _My husband._

He smiled at her before leaning over to kiss her forehead. She felt the strong urge to tell him but he pulled away and got out of bed. He was as naked as his nameday, Sansa forced herself to look away as she slid out of the furs they had slept under to find something suitable for a long day of riding. As she pulled on a shift, she felt a hand and wrist on her waist, stopping the progress of the material down her body. She looked over her shoulder and found Jaime right behind her. He ran his handless arm up her side, lifting the shift higher. Her breath caught in her throat as his other hand grazed her breast. He whispered in her ear, “If only we could stay in bed all day…”

His voice trailed off as he pressed his lips to her shoulder. She held back a moan as his teeth clamped onto her skin. She said, “We should be leaving.”

He nodded in agreement. “We should.” He kissed up her neck to her earlobe, which he bit lightly. 

Sansa pushed away from him and said, “We shall have plenty of time for such activities when we reach Casterly Rock.”

Jaime just looked at her. “Will we? The Stark army will be upon us, my head will adorn a pike near the gates of the Rock. You will be with your family again and I’ll be dead.”

Sansa’s eyebrows furrowed and she saw the sadness in his eyes. She reached up and stroked his cheek. “I won’t let that happen, Jaime. You will be unharmed. You are my husband.” She pressed a kiss to his other cheek and with her lips against his skin, she murmured, “I wouldn’t let them kill the man I love.”

He leaned his head back from hers to look at her properly. “Did you just say you love me?”

She hesitated but answered, “I did, my lord.”

Jaime kissed her quickly before saying, “And I love you, Sansa.”

“You do?”

He nodded. “Yes. How could I not? The more time I spend with you, the more I thank the gods I no longer worship for allowing me to marry you.”

She took his wrist on his handless arm in her hand and brought it to her lips, pressing them against the smooth skin of his stump. She looked up at him, lips against his skin, and saw a smile upon his face. 

 

Their horses were saddled, ready for their departure. Jaime walked with Sansa on his arm to their party that had gathered in the courtyard. All of their guards were on their horses already, waiting for their lord and lady. Josmyn was waiting with the reins of their horses in hand. 

Jaime helped Sansa onto her horse and was about to mount his own when he looked toward the castle again. Sansa followed his gaze and saw Maester Eldin hurrying across the yard to them. The old man was out of breath when he reached them and held out two scrolls. He said, “Ravens in the night, my lord.”

Jaime unrolled the first scroll and Sansa watched as his eyebrows furrowed, reading. He muttered bitterly, “Always a delight, that woman.” He handed Sansa the first note and went on to read the second. 

Sansa looked down at the first one and frowned.

 

_ Jaime, _

 

_ It’s unclear as to what part of that letter made it seem as if I were requesting your presence in King’s Landing. You are being summoned to sit on the jury for the Imp. Come to the capital now or I shall send red cloaks and Kingsguard to bring you back in chains. Perhaps Sansa’s head will decorate a pike if you resist, she’s only a Stark. _

_ Cersei _

 

He handed the second letter to Sansa, eyebrows still furrowed.

 

_ Ser Jaime Lannister, _

 

_ As I’m sure you have been made aware by now, I will not go into detail over Tyrion’s arrest. Cersei wishes you to join Oberyn Martell and myself on the jury but I have appointed Mace Tyrell in your stead. Your sister has a soft woman’s heart, pay no mind to her. _

_ Lord Tywin Lannister _

_ Hand of the King _

 

She gave both of the letters back to Jaime, who said to the maester, “Many thanks, Maester Eldin, for getting these to me at such an early hour.”

“Safe travels, Ser Jaime, Lady Sansa.”

The maester hurried back to the castle, out of the light rain that had started falling. Sansa pulled her hood over her head as Jaime mounted his horse. The Crakehall brothers kicked their horses into a full gallop after seeing the look on Jaime and Sansa’s faces. Ser Steffon galloped after them followed by both Jaime and Sansa. Brienne of Tarth and the other four brought up the rear. 

After nearly half an hour of full galloping, they slowed their horses to a brisk canter. Sansa said, “What if Cersei still sends red cloaks after us? She has ignored your father’s wishes many-a time.”

Jaime nodded. “She has. That’s why I wish to put as much distance between us and King’s Landing. She may have already sent them after us, just after we left the city.” He fell silent for several minutes before saying, “She never would hurt Tyrion if I were still in King’s Landing.”

“Why do you say that, Jaime?”

“Cersei never harmed Tyrion for fear I wouldn’t forgive her.” He said, staring at the road ahead of them. “Now that I think on it, Tyrion promised me to never harm Cersei for the same reason.”

“Your siblings do love you.” She commented, thinking of her own siblings, even Jon.

“They do, but they despise each other.” He looked at her as he said, “Tyrion even asked me to be his champion during his first trial by combat. Due to your…lovely Aunt Lysa stating that the trial was to be carried out that day, I was unable to stand for my little brother.”

“Is that how Bronn came into Lord Tyrion’s service?”

“Yes, it is.”

“The gods hold Tyrion’s life now.” Sansa reminded him. 

“Yes, the _gods_. The ever-merciful gods.” Jaime sighed in disgust. “They gave him his life once before. I don’t know if they allow someone more than one mercy.” 

“The gods are merciful to the innocent, as you believe Tyrion to be.”

“The gods are nothing to Cersei’s wrath. She holds a grudge and she has never forgiven Tyrion for killing our mother, something he had no control over. My father won’t spare him either, he resents him too for the same act. Tyrion’s as good as dead.”

Jaime fell silent again and Sansa let him be. They rode for nearly an hour in silence, both lost to their own thoughts. Sansa wondered what Robb would actually do to Jaime, if he would listen to her. She honestly didn’t know if he would listen. War does terrible things to people, Robb was likely a changed man. 

Sansa finally asked, tired of her own worries, “Do you think Tyrion will ask you to be his champion this time?”

Jaime looked at her and said, “This time? He hasn’t demanded a trial by combat.” Sansa gave him a look. “Who am I fooling? Of course he’ll demand one, it’s his nature. And he will want me to champion him. But, I can’t fight with my left hand. I’m useless.”

“You’re not useless, Jaime. You just have to train your hand.” She said. “But it would please me for you to sit out Tyrion’s trial. I won’t have you die so soon into our marriage.”

Jaime actually smiled.

 

They made camp that night an hour after the sky had darkened. They ate quickly over a low fire before retiring to their tents. Ser Samwell took the first watch with Josmyn Peckledon. Jaime and Sansa retired to their tent. Sansa undressed with her back to Jaime. Down to her shift, she felt his hands on her waist. He spun her around to face him and she was surprised to find him completely naked. 

“Eager, are we?” She joked, glancing down for a moment before returning her gaze to his eyes. 

“I don’t wish to deny myself the pleasure of your company any longer.”

“My company? Is that what you crave?”

“Among other things.” He said, smiling. He leaned down to kiss the spot where her shoulder met her neck as his hand untied the laces of the shift. Jaime pushed the material over her shoulders and it fell to the ground. Jaime’s eyes looked up and down her body, a smile spread across his face. Sansa rose up on her toes, pressing her lips to his. Jaime’s arms wrapped around her waist and pulled them together. His tongue slipped into her mouth and she met it with hers. _What is this spark I feel?_ she thought as they continued to kiss. 

They finally broke apart minutes later and Jaime said, eyes dazed with lust, “Lay down.”

She lowered herself onto their sleeping mat and watched as Jaime stared at her hungrily. He lowered himself over her and his lips found hers. His hand traveled down her body, pausing at her breast, before continuing down to her womanhood. He rubbed tight circles over her clit as he nudged her legs apart to put himself between them. Still rubbing her, he maneuvered his manhood to her opening. She let out a gasp when he slipped into her. He didn’t waste any time in starting a fast pace in and out of her. She held onto his shoulders as continued with his grueling rhythm, slamming into her. She let out a moan as his finger changed the direction it was rubbing. Jaime kissed her roughly and he removed his hand to cup her cheek, deepening the kiss. She slid her hands from his shoulders to his neck, hooking her thumbs behind his ears, holding him in place. 

The tent flap open suddenly causing Jaime to still his movements and to pull away from their kiss. His squire, Josmyn Peckledon, was the source of the intrusion. He was staring at what he had interrupted. Josmyn’s eyes raked over Sansa’s naked body beneath Jaime’s.

“I urge you to raise your eyes, Peck, or I shall rip them from their sockets.” Jaime said, jaw clenching. 

Josmyn cleared his throat uncomfortably as he looked at Jaime. “My apologies, my lord, my lady.” He pointed out of the tent before saying, “Riders in the night.”

“What kind of riders?”

“The unfriendly kind, my lord.” He said, backing out of the tent. 

Jaime didn’t say a word. He pulled out of Sansa and dressed as quickly as he could with only one hand. Sansa rose to help him. He said, “My armor.”

“You can’t be serious. You told me earlier you are unable to fight.”

He didn’t look at her as he repeated, “My armor, Sansa.”

She helped him fasten it, growing more upset with each strap she tightened. She put his sword on and stood back. Jaime turned to leave but returned to her, pulling her against him. He kissed her full on the lips, whispering against them, “Don’t leave the tent.” With that, he was gone. 

Sansa stood shivering, wondering if she would see him alive again. 


	9. Jaime IV

His guards were armored and ready to fight. Jaime walked to them, gripping the hilt of his Valyrian sword, Oathkeeper. His squire ran up to him and said, “They’ll be upon us in moments.”

“Who?” Jaime asked, squinting into the darkness, hoping to see them before they saw him.

“Lannister men.” His squire replied, his voice calm. Jaime was always surprised by Peck’s bravery and ability to remain collected even in the most dangerous of times. He was only sixteen with the beginnings of his first beard, so young. _I was fifteen when I was knighted, age is but a number,_ Jaime thought, looking at his squire. Josmyn had killed several during the Battle of the Blackwater he was told, Jaime shouldn’t doubt his abilities. 

A low growl ripped through his throat. _I’m going to kill Cersei next I see her._ He was filled with rage, his body practically shaking because of it. He caught Brienne’s eye and she raised an eyebrow at him. He knew she was asking if he was okay. He gave her a small nod, although he didn’t feel okay. He felt like he wanted to hack the men Cersei had sent, limb from limb. 

He could hear the horses thundering toward them. _Is this the end of me?_ He had never fought with one hand before and he didn’t like his odds of surviving. He vowed, if he lived, that he would train day and night with the Rock’s master-at-arms until he was dead tired and dripping with sweat. He never wanted to feel this helpless before a fight again. 

The sound grew louder by the second and Jaime said, “Ready yourselves.” He heard the familiar scrape of metal on sheath and saw nine swords being drawn. 

Ten horses appeared out of the darkness and a member of the Kingsguard led the way. Jaime wished suddenly that he had the rest of his guard with him, that they weren’t making their slow way to them with the rest of their possessions. Instead of attacking them outright, the horses stopped within ten feet of Jaime and the men dismounted. Helms came off and Jaime recognized them immediately. The Kingsguard leader was Ser Meryn Trant. _That cunt._ Jaime shot daggers at the man and hoped he was the one to kill him. Ser Osmund Kettleblack was with Ser Meryn, as well as Ser Loras Tyrell. 

“I am to be your lord when my father dies. I will not forget the slight you have presented me with today.” Jaime called out to the riders, to the men not apart of the Kingsguard. 

“We obey your father and the queen, not you, Kingslayer.” One of them snarled, a man of House Estren. Jaime vaguely remembered that this man’s lord, Regenard Estren, was still a captive at the Twins after serving under him at the Battle of the Whispering Wood. He understood his hate. 

“You will not speak to our lord in such a matter.” Brienne spat. 

“What do you intend to do about it, _woman_?” Ser Osmund laughed.

“Slice you from balls to brain, for start.” Brienne replied. The Crakehall brothers laughed. 

Collectively, the men Ser Meryn had brought with him drew their swords. Ser Meryn said, “Come with us, Kingslayer, and there will be no need for any of this.”

“Fuck you, Trant.” Jaime snapped, drawing Oathkeeper from his sheath. Meryn Trant just laughed and unsheathed his sword.

“Wrong choice, Kingslayer.” Ser Meryn swung his sword at Jaime, who blocked it clumsily with his own, almost dropping it. Ser Osmund Kettleblack attacked Brienne of Tarth, while the Estren man helped. Ser Loras Tyrell was the only one to hold back, watching the fight for damn near a minute before he was attacked by the eldest Crakehall. 

“Where’s your little bitch of a wife? I’ll have a go with her once you’re in chains.” Ser Meryn Trant snarled. He swung at Jaime, who barely blocked the sword with his own.

“She would never let your tiny prick in her.” Jaime spat, lunging at Meryn. He caught him under the ribs and had to wretch his sword away from the hole it made in the white armor. 

“I’ll just have to beat her like before and she won’t know what’s happening.” He said, grunting as he swung for Jaime’s head, setting aside his orders to return the queen’s brother to King’s Landing in chains but _alive._ Jaime ducked and swung Oathkeeper at Meryn, catching him across the chest. The older knight grunted in pain but kept at Jaime. Meryn Trant was dripping in sweat and red of face as he swung his sword repeatedly at Jaime, who was doing his best not to die. He had many cuts on the exposed parts of his body but Ser Meryn was in worse shape; Jaime figured he had never faced a Valyrian sword. Meryn said, “It still vexes me that I didn’t get to rip her dress off her on your wedding night. That soft white flesh is a thing of beauty.”

Jaime roared, “You’ll never touch her!”

“I could just kill you. A cripple, so easy to take down.”

“You’re having a hard time of it, Ser Meryn.” Ser Loras Tyrell shouted from his lazy fight with Ser Tybolt Crakehall. “Chain him and be done with it.”

“I was a prisoner once, I don’t plan on being one again.” Jaime said, slicing through Meryn’s gauntlet. Ser Meryn let out a howl of pain. His sword dropped to the ground, his hand still attached. “Not pleasant, is it? And no maester around to fix you. You’re to die, Ser Meryn.”

Brienne, who was having a fierce fight with Ser Osmund Kettleblack, tore her eyes away from her foe to shoot him a look of pure shock. She turned back to Ser Osmund; she had him on the run in no time, he was backing away from her advance with each trust of the sword. Jaime forced himself to look back at Meryn Trant on the ground. Blood was spurting from his wrist as he cried out in agony. It took him several minutes to get back up, picking up his sword with his left hand, his right hand falling to the ground. 

“It looks I have the advantage now.” Jaime chortled.

Ser Meryn shot him a glare. “It’s finally a fair fight.”

“No, Meryn. You would have to be a decent fighter for it to be a fair fight.” He said, a wicked grin on his face. In one swift trust, Jaime’s sword plunged through Meryn Trant’s white Kingsguard armor. The hilt of Oathkeeper was against the damaged armor and Ser Meryn was choking on his own blood as he stared into Jaime’s eyes. Jaime withdrew Oathkeeper but didn’t stop his attack as Meryn fell lifelessly to the dirt. He hacked at the body, the Valyrian steel easily slicing through the armor, through bone. Blood flew through the air, splattering Jaime all over.

“Jaime!” Brienne shouted. He looked up, face and armor covered in blood. “He’s dead.”

“I aware.” He replied dryly, looking down at Ser Meryn’s bloody, mangled corpse. He leaned down and grabbed Meryn Trant’s severed head. He tossed it at Ser Osmund, who caught it in disgust. “Some Lord Commander; beat by a cripple.”

He picked up Meryn Trant’s severed hand and gave it to Ser Loras Tyrell. “Present both to my sister and tell her she can’t intimidate me. Go.” He spoke slowly and calmly, but his eyes were narrow slits. 

Ser Loras just nodded and motioned for Ser Osmund to mount his horse. Only two Lannister red cloaks on their side had survived; they mounted their horses with difficulty, aching all over. Ser Osmund put Meryn Trant’s head in his saddlebag and mounted his steed. Ser Loras approached Jaime, who was looking at all of the dead. He had lost only two from his guard while the queen’s men had lost six, among them the man from House Estren. 

“The queen didn’t want you harmed. Ser Meryn was a fool.” Ser Loras said, holding Meryn Trant’s hand by a finger. He continued, looking at Jaime, “My sister is to be Tommen’s queen, I will make sure no one comes after you again.” 

Jaime actually smiled. “Many thanks, Ser Loras. You’re honorable, rare in the Kingsguard.” He leaned close to Ser Loras’ ear. “Get out if you can.”

Ser Loras gave him a queer look but nodded and turned to his horse, putting the hand in his saddlebag. He mounted the white courser and nodded again to Jaime before leading the small group away. Ser Osmund spat at Jaime as he passed. He wiped the spittle off of his cheek and flung it to the ground. 

At the sound of the retreating horses, Jaime heard heavy canvas being thrown aside. Sansa was running toward him, dressed in a shift and draped in his Lannister cloak. She had tears in her eyes as she launched herself against his chest. He caught her as best he could, wrapping his arms around her waist, getting blood on her shift.

“I was worried, my lord.” She said quietly into his shoulder. His arms tightened around her and he kissed the top of her head. 

“Never worry, my dear.” He said softly, pulling back to look upon her face. He smiled before kissing her swiftly and saying, “I have some business to attend to, my lady. I will return to you in a few minutes time.”

Sansa nodded and released him reluctantly. After she reentered the tent, Jaime said to his guard, “I need men to return Ser Robert to Hornvale, a day’s journey, and Ser Samwell to the Crag.”

Ser Steffon Swyft and Ser Merlon Crakehall stepped forward. Ser Steffon, after casting a sidelong glance at Merlon, said, “I shall return Ser Samwell, Ser Merlon shouldn’t be too far from his brothers.”

Jaime nodded and thanked them. They would leave on the morrow. Brienne of Tarth pulled Jaime aside as he made to retire for the night. She said, “You mustn’t leave yourself two guards short, Jaime.”

He just looked at her and said, “Ser Robert and Ser Samwell deserve more than to be buried in the mountains like peasants.”

She bowed her head in compliance but said, “You leave only five to protect you and your lady. It is unwise, Jaime.”

Jaime just shook his head. “We beat back Cersei’s men. Ser Loras promised no more will come after us.”

Brienne gave him a hard stare before walking away. Jaime frowned as she did so, wondering why she was being like this. He shook it off and walked slowly to the tent where his wife was waiting for him.


	10. Robb III

Robb rode among his personal guard, Grey Wind trotting beside his grey stallion. They were less than a week from Casterly Rock and Lannisport; Wayfarer’s Rest was just behind them. Lord Vance had been very accommodating, offering the King in the North to stay as long as he wanted but Robb wished to leave at first light. They were in the Westerlands now and there were no more safe holdfasts between them and Casterly Rock. Robb wished to ride day and night until he could rescue his sister but he knew that was unrealistic. Men had to sleep and the horses couldn’t possibly keep the grueling pace he was setting for longer than twelve hours. 

His army was lighter after Riverrun. Robb has told his mother and youngest sister to remain there with some of Ser Edmure Tully’s forces as well as the new lord of Riverrun himself. Ser Edmure promised to keep his sister and niece safe, as well as Robb’s very pregnant wife. Arya had put up a fight, claiming that she could be of help; she even offered to sneak into Casterly Rock because she was so small and light on her feet. She had shouted at him, “No one will notice me!” His mother had helped calm her but Arya only stormed off, the slamming of a door ringing out in the silence. To be honest, he had weighed her offer against his true plan but he didn’t wish for her to be harmed in any way; harm and hardship were behind her. 

Talisa hadn’t wanted to be left behind either. But he had convinced her that it was better for her to have their baby there, with a maester near at all hours, than on the road under dangerous circumstances. He had to bribe her with copious amounts of sex before she finally agreed to his terms. Only Talisa could reduce the King in the North to a panting mess at the end of each bout. He had kissed her goodbye then kissed her swollen belly. 

“You wait for me, little Eddard. I will be there when you’re born.” Robb whispered against her stomach. 

Talisa had smiled and ran a hand through his soft curls. “He wouldn’t dare disobey his king.”

Robb stood and said, "His mother doesn't have a problem doing so.” He kissed her one more time before departing. 

He was thinking of them as he came back to the present. Sandor Clegane rode next to him, Roose Bolton just behind. Bolton didn’t trust Clegane and wished to be near Robb in case the Hound tried anything to harm the King in the North. Robb thought it unnecessary, the Hound was a member of his army now, loyal to the cause of rescuing Sansa Stark from Ser Jaime Lannister. But, Robb did question Clegane’s… _affection_ for Sansa. He didn’t understand how a man formerly loyal to the Lannisters could feel anything for a Stark. 

He also wondered how Ser Jaime Lannister was treating her. _Bad, he’s treating her bad. He has to be._ Robb couldn’t imagine a world where a Lannister would befriend a Stark, let alone marry one and actually _love_ them. 

“Your Grace?” Ser Brynden Tully had ridden up to join them. He was looking at him as if he had just spoken and was expecting an answer. 

“Pardon me, uncle, did you say something?” Robb asked, snapping out of his reverie. 

“Never apologize, Your Grace. It shows weakness.” Ser Brynden advised. Robb nodded, accepting his advice. His great-uncle began again, “Your Grace, we need to discuss strategy. Who is to lead the army into Lannisport? Who is to accompany you into Casterly Rock? How many? Who…”

Robb held up a hand to silence him. “Calm yourself, uncle.” Ser Brynden held his tongue and waited for his king to say something more. “I will be taking Sandor Clegane with me into Casterly Rock, he knows it better than anyone. Roose Bolton will lead the charge into Lannisport.”

Ser Brynden nodded firmly, accepting his king’s idea as the way it would be. Robb knew Brynden Tully wouldn’t question any decision he made; he appreciated that. He wished all of his soldiers were like that. 

“You once told me Jaime Lannister lacks patience.” Robb said to Ser Brynden. “Does he still?”

The Blackfish considered it a moment. “I think not. I haven’t seen the Kingslayer since he was freed, but I imagine he’s changed since losing his hand.”

“Likely to be more cautious, my king.” Dacey Mormont interjected.

“How so?” Roose Bolton asked. Mormont looked at him, as if she wondered how he had the audacity to question her statement. She replied, “He lost a hand, Bolton. His sword hand. He cannot be the same man. The hand was his favorite possession.”

“I thought his prick was his favorite.” Clegane barked, a small grin on his grotesque face.

“Can’t be, he used it on Cersei. Must hate the thing.” Patrek Mallister shouted from behind them.

“And now he uses it on Sansa. Likely his favorite again.” All eyes were on the man who spoke, Robin Flint, Robb’s were too, turning in his saddle. He wondered why Flint thought he could say such a thing about his king’s sister in the presence of the king himself. 

Robb said calmly, “Watch what you say, Flint, or I shall have Roose slice out your tongue and feed it to Grey Wind.”

“It would be my pleasure.” Roose Bolton said coldly, eying Flint. 

“My apologies, Your Grace.” Robin said, not meeting his king’s gaze.

“I suggest you ride at the back of the guard, Flint.” Ser Brynden said with a glare. Robin Flint held up his horse and let the others pass until he was at the back of their group of thirty. 

“As I said, Your Grace,” Ser Brynden began again, an annoyed expression on his face, “Ser Jaime is not the same man he once was.”

Robb nodded. “Do you believe he will lead his men out of Casterly Rock himself or send a man in his stead?”

The Blackfish let out a harsh laugh. “Jaime Lannister may have lost a hand but he’s still a fucking Lannister. Lannisters are proud, Robb. They will always lead their own into battle even if they’ve lost every limb they possess and have to be strapped onto their horse to keep from falling off.”

“Good. Jaime out of the castle is preferred.”

They rode in silence for a moment before Roose Bolton broke through it. “Your Grace, may I offer an opinion?”

“As you wish, Roose.”

He took a moment before saying, “I would simply suggest that you take me into Casterly Rock and let the Hound take Lannisport.”

“And why should I do that?” Robb asked, a little shocked at Bolton’s suggestion. 

“Clegane is too easily noticed outside of Casterly Rock. His size alone could give him away, let alone that terrible face of his. Dressed as peasants, you and I could easily sneak close enough to the Rock unseen while the army marches on Lannisport.” 

Robb considered it a moment but Sandor Clegane barked, “Don’t listen to this _cunt_. How will you know where to go inside the Rock? We don’t even know where Jaime will be, he may not lead the host to Lannisport. And what of Sansa? She could be anywhere.”

“He is lighter on his feet though, Clegane. And, how are you with daggers? We won’t be bringing greatswords.” Robb said.

“I can use a bloody dagger!” Clegane spat, face growing red from frustration.

“But like I can?” Bolton was twirling a dagger in one hand for emphasis. 

“I do all right.” 

“I need better than ‘all right,’ _Hound._ ” Robb said, narrowing his eyes, suddenly upset with Sandor Clegane. “If you wish to contribute to the retrieval of my dear sister, you will do so in the sack of Lannisport. Roose will accompany me into the castle. You will tell me where they are likely to be keeping Sansa and where Jaime’s solar and chambers are.” 

“I might as well tell you where the dungeons are, _Your Grace._ That’s where you’re to end up.” Clegane kicked his horse into a gallop and left them in the dust. Robb just shook his head and stared ahead. He didn’t think about the possibility of Clegane being correct. He couldn’t. If he started doubting himself, it was only a matter of time before his men started to doubt him too. 


	11. Sansa IV

Sansa stared up at Casterly Rock, so high above them. It didn’t look like it was thousands of years old, built by the Casterlys long ago. Several hundred maybe, but certainly not thousands. She wondered which tale of how Lann the Clever stole the Rock from the Casterlys was true. She fancied the one that told of Lann marrying Casterly’s daughter and inheriting the Rock legally, the other tales were too vulgar and grim for her liking. She hoped Lann had been honorable, much like her Jaime. She hoped he wasn’t like Cersei, the worst of the Lannisters. Sansa vowed to make Cersei pay. 

The entrance to the Rock, the Lion’s Mouth, was grand. On the outside, carved into the rock itself were large columns over two hundred feet high with an ornate golden lion guarding both sides of the gate, which themselves stood over a hundred feet tall. There were shouts from the archers who stood, arrows poised and ready to be released, on recesses in the rock. They were more of balconies, with arches behind leading gods know where, and they were one hundred feet above where Sansa stood next to her husband, just behind the head of each lion. 

“Lord Jaime, many thanks to the gods for allowing you and your party a safe journey.” One of the archers called, his voice echoing across the pass. Jaime nodded in acknowledgment. 

The other archer shouted behind him through the arch in the stone, “Lord Lannister arrives! Open the gate!”

“Many thanks, Kerwyn, Darryn.” Jaime nodded to each as a loud scraping noise alerted them to the gate raising. 

They entered Casterly Rock at the Lion’s Mouth and when she stepped into the cavernous room, Sansa knew that there was nothing like it in all of Westeros nor across the Narrow Sea. Two hundred feet tall, the room was monstrous. She estimated that nearly two dozen horsemen could ride abreast through the Mouth and up the steps if they fancied it. The bleached stone floors matched the stone walls and grand stone staircase to the right. The staircase was several stories tall, turning in two places. Sansa marveled at its beauty. 

She felt a hand caress her back and she turned her head to look up at Jaime. He was smiling at her. He asked, “What do you think?”

“It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” 

“No, it’s not.” Jaime’s eyes were on her face, unwavering. She blushed and looked away but his metal hand shot up to catch her chin. Her eyes returned to his. “Stop doing that. You’re beautiful, Sansa. I’m tired of you not knowing it.”

“Thank you, my lord.” She pulled away from him, embarrassed by his forwardness in front of the Lannister men. She began to walk around the cavern, loving the sound her shoes made on the stone. Intricate carvings were in the stone walls and she stopped to study them; they were the history of House Lannister. 

Jaime called from the stairs, “Sansa, we must make for the keep atop the Rock. It will take hours and I wish to show you something before we lose the light.”

Sansa left a carving from the year 130AC to follow her husband up the grand staircase. She took his arm and prepared herself mentally for the long journey ahead.

 

It took two hours to get to their chambers, many, many stories above. The Rock was vast, two leagues long and who knows how many leagues tall. The servants brought what few bags they had with them. Sansa hoped the rest of their party would reach them soon, she had long grown tired of wearing the same three dresses over and over again. As the servants left, she felt hands on her hips; the familiar feel of the metal against her felt just as good as the fleshy feel on her other hipbone. She leaned back against his chest and closed her eyes. 

Jaime kissed the side of her head and said, “You’re safe, my lady.”

“I am. But are you?” She asked, keeping her eyes shut.

She felt a soft rumble in his chest and knew that he was laughing silently to himself. “The Rock is impregnable, Sansa. Robb will not be able to get in with his army. Fear not, my dear.” He kissed the top of her head before spinning her around to face him properly. He pulled her flush against him and said, “I haven’t had you since the night of the Kingsguard fight.”

“Aye, you haven’t, my lord.” Sansa replied, coyly. Jaime kissed her as he undid her laces slowly, his hand grazing her breasts as he did. The touch lasted only a moment though, he pulled away and took her hand in his, pulling her toward the large windows on the south wall of their chamber. From it, she could see Lannisport. It was such a vast, rich city. _Only Oldtown is larger,_ she thought. It looked so small from where she stood, staring out the glass, but that was only because she was so high up in the air. She wondered how Robb hoped to take the city. Surely he knew it was a lost cause. _Why doesn’t he know I’m safe? That I’m happy? That I’m…_ She shook the last thought out of her head. She glanced back at Jaime and he was smiling at her.

“Look.” He said, pointing at the water. The sun was setting and the orange, yellow, red, and pink was reflecting off of the water, making Lannisport shine like some sort of jewel. Hot breath on Sansa’s neck alerted her to how close Jaime had gotten to her. She shivered in anticipation of his lips on her neck but they didn’t come. He whispered in her ear, “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? I was afraid we would miss it.”

“It is beautiful.” 

They watched the sun set over Lannisport, Jaime holding Sansa in his arms. When the sky had darkened and Sansa had grown tired, Jaime pulled her to the bed. He unlaced her dress for her and she climbed into bed in her shift as he undressed himself. She had missed the feel of a real feather bed and this bed felt like all seven heavens combined. Jaime climbed in next to her and pulled her against him. He nuzzle her neck and she smiled to herself. 

She may have been forced to marry him but she loved him anyway. He was the only one she wanted and she wouldn’t trade him for any other man. He was hers and she was his. She hoped that if Jaime managed to capture Robb that she would be given the chance to reason with her brother.

_Robb’s defeated Jaime in battle before…_ The little voice in her head had creeped in to ruin her mood. 

_Yes, that’s true,_ she told it, _but Jaime was outflanked and surprised…_

_And what if Robb does the same again?_

Sansa thought and thought and thought but she kept coming to the same conclusion: Robb would kill Jaime without a moment’s thought. 

_See?_ The voice said. _There is no hope for your precious Kingslayer, not if Robb Stark uses his wits._

Sansa knew the voice was right but she would never admit it. She would have to convince Jaime not to lead his host out of Casterly Rock. It was the only way. 

Sansa felt a kiss on her brow and opened her eyes to see Jaime leaning over her. He slid his arm over her waist and took her hand in his. His green eyes were searching her face as she stared back at him. He asked softly, “Are you okay?”

She shook her head, it was a small movement, so small that Jaime almost missed it. She whispered, “You can’t lead your men into Lannisport when my brother attacks.”

“Why?” He leaned up on his elbow to better look at her. 

“You won’t do it if you love me.” Her hand caressed his cheek. 

“Sansa, you haven’t told me why.” His voice was stern, he was growing impatient. His face was hard as he stared at her and he was waiting for her to say the right thing. He was stubborn that way, she knew it. 

She took a deep breath before saying, “If you lead your men, my brother will kill you. He will behead you in front of your own people and House Lannister will fall.”

Jaime just looked at her for a moment before he burst out laughing. She stared at him incredulously, waiting for him to explain himself. He did after several moments. “House Lannister wouldn’t fall with the death of me. My father lives, as do my siblings and too many cousins to count. If I fall on the field of battle, the world will not end because of it.”

“Mine will.”

Jaime sighed and looked away from her. To the wall, he said, his voice strained, “Your world will be fine. _You_ will be fine, Sansa. With or without me.”

Sansa pulled away from him and rolled over, too upset with his indifference at surviving. Didn’t he understand that she didn’t want to go back to Winterfell? She didn’t want the North, she didn’t want her old friends, she didn’t want her old life. All she wanted was to move forward. She wanted him. She wanted to unite the North and the Westerlands. She wanted to end the feud between House Lannister and House Stark. She wanted Jaime. _Alive._ But he didn’t care.

“Are you upset with me?” His voice was quiet and she could hear the sadness in it. But he hadn’t cared about her sadness, why should she care about his? Sansa just closed her eyes until she felt him sink down into the bed on his back. She waited until she heard his breathing become shallow and she knew he was asleep. Then she started to cry.

 

When she woke the next morning, Jaime was gone. She laid in bed for the longest time, thinking of the night before and how it had turned bad so fast. 

“Lady Sansa?” A girl had entered without her hearing the door open. Sansa pulled the blankets around her and the girl smiled. “I’m your new handmaiden, Emeline Lannister.” She had golden hair, like most Lannisters, it was long and curly. She was beautiful, Sansa had to admit; most of them were. She was young still, maybe twelve, and tall already, still growing. She would be terribly beautiful and that would make her terribly powerful one day. There needed to be fewer Lannisters in power. 

_You’re thinking like a Stark again._

Sansa shook the thought from her head and remembered what her septa had taught her. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Emeline.” 

The Lannister girl smiled and beckoned for Sansa to get out of bed. Emeline was holding a green dress, one of those she had worn while in King’s Landing. Sansa asked, pulling her shift on under the covers, “Where did you get that?”

“Your luggage arrived, my lady.” Emeline said, holding out the dress. Sansa smiled and climbed out of bed. She walked to Emeline and the handmaiden helped her into the dress. She laced up Sansa’s dress for her then had Sansa sit down in front of the looking glass. Emeline began to braid her hair on the sides. She connected the braids at the back of Sansa’s head and continued the braid with the rest of Sansa’s hair. Sansa enjoyed the feel of her hands in her hair. Emeline was born to be a handmaiden. Sansa would never tell her father that, whomever he may be; some important Lannister probably. 

Emeline’s hands left her hair and Sansa stood, facing her. The Lannister handmaiden said, “Lord Jaime told me to take you to his cousin Joy. She is to show you around.” 

Sansa nodded, surprised that Jaime had planned anything for her that day. She thought he was still upset with her. _Is he upset with me?_ She honestly didn’t know if he had been even the night previous. 

Sansa put on a smile for Emeline and said, “Please take me to my lord husband.” 

Emeline looked uncomfortable but she was stubborn and stood her ground. “No, my lady. Lord Jaime said to take you to Joy. Lord Jaime is very busy today.”

Sansa couldn’t help but feel disappointment at Jaime’s avoidance of her. But, she was a highborn lady, she couldn’t show it. Her head held high, she said, “Take me to Joy.”

“Of course, my lady.”

Joy was only a few floors below them so it didn’t take long. Sansa figured she would have to plan whole days around getting places within the Rock. It was so much larger than Winterfell. She wondered if she would ever get used to it. 

Joy Hill was young, eleven or twelve, with long, wavy golden hair. She was fairly beautiful but Sansa could see the lowborn in her. She wondered what her mother had looked like. Then she realized that she shouldn’t care. It was clear from the first moment she opened her mouth that Joy was the embodiment of her name. She was happy to have Sansa there. 

She took Sansa’s hand the second that she came in and yanked her right back out the door. “We have so much to see, Lady Sansa!”

Joy showed her around the main keep first. It was mostly the great hall, chambers, meeting rooms, halls upon halls upon halls, towers, a large sept, and a massive library. As they exited the great hall, Sansa saw that they were serving what appeared to be lunch. She asked, “Is it afternoon already?”

“Is it?” Joy had been chatting away about the tapestries in the room, some from the Dance of Dragons. 

“Can we eat?” Sansa asked, having not realized how hungry she was. She had never broken her fast. 

“As you wish, my lady.” Joy said as Sansa sat down at the high table. Joy went to sit at a place better suited for her station and Sansa watched her go. She sat next to a boy around their age with short golden hair and pleasant features. Another Lannister. 

Sansa stood from the high table where she was all alone, as Jaime didn’t appear to be eating in the hall for the meal, and went to sit with her new friend. The boy stood when she neared. 

“My lady.” He said, giving her a small bow. 

Sansa smiled and sunk into a shallow curtsy. “My lord.”

The boy shook his head. “Not a lord, my lady.” 

He looked bemused as he sat down next to Joy again. Sansa sat opposite them and asked, “Then what should I call you?”

“Walder Frey.”

“They call him Red Walder.” Joy said. “Since there’s so many of them.”

Sansa couldn’t help but smile. “Pardon me, but you don’t look like a Frey.”

“You mean I’m not ugly.” Walder said.

“I didn’t say that.” Sansa was staring into the plate in front of her. She felt like she could drown in her venison and barley soup. Raucous laughter made her look up; Joy and Red Walder were bent over the table, lost to fits of guffaws. “Did I miss something?”

When he had recovered enough, Walder said, “The look on your face. You turned nearly as red as your locks, my lady!”

This only made her blush more. Joy said, “Oft he is told that, my lady.”

Sansa frowned. “My apologies, Walder.”

“No offense taken, Lady Sansa.” Red Walder said, smiling. “It’s…nice to be one of the few good-looking Freys.”

“That’s because you’re half-Lannister, you twit.” Joy said, giggling. She jabbed him in the side.

“Which half?” Sansa was finding it hard to get in a word with the two but she found that she was having a lovely time with them regardless. It was an odd thing to be spending time with people her own age. She had grown so accustomed to court and being with people her parents’ ages that she had forgotten what it was like to be fourteen again. She would have to thank Jaime, if he was speaking to her.

Walder said, “I’m Walder Frey, son of Emmon Frey and Genna Lannister. I’m your husband’s cousin, as is Joy here. Mum is Lord Jaime’s aunt and Lord Tywin’s sister.” 

“And which Frey is Emmon?” There were so many of them, Sansa had never bothered to keep track. She knew her father had never held much stock in the Freys. He thought them cowardly. Her mother didn’t have a high opinion of them either. Her late grandfather, Lord Hoster Tully, called Walder Frey the “Late Lord Frey” for his cowardice on the battlefield. Her brother had broken a pact with them by marrying his current wife, showing how little he thought of them.

“My father is Lord Walder’s second son.” That cleared it up. Had Emmon been any other son, any younger, Sansa would have lost him to the mass. It is said that Walder Frey has over a hundred descendants. Sansa couldn’t imagine a family like that. She knew that the Lannisters were numerous but at least they were good-looking. This Walder Frey was lucky, he was half-Lannister. He wasn’t weasel-faced like most Freys.

Sansa nodded to him. “And you, Joy? How are you related?”

“My father was Gerion Lannister, Lord Tywin’s brother, Jaime’s uncle. I’m Jaime’s cousin.”

“And your mother?” From the look on Joy’s face, Sansa wished she hadn’t asked. “Pardon me, Joy, I shouldn’t pry.”

“It’s quite all right, my lady. It’s been some time.” Joy said, forcing a smile. “My mother was Briony, a lowborn. After my father disappeared across the Narrow Sea, my mother disappeared too. I haven’t had much of a home. Lord Jaime thought I should come here, sent a letter to me in Lannisport a few weeks back so I could be settled by the time you arrived. He thought you should have a friend here.”

Sansa smiled. To Walder, she asked, “Is your family here?”

“Somewhere I expect.” He shrugged.

“You’re unsure?” 

“I’m a page for Ser Benedict Broom, the master-at-arms, they could be at the Twins for all I care. My days are spent in the yard, training, and running errands.”

“You don’t like your family?”

“Is that too hard to believe?” Walder asked, surprised. “Mum’s alright but Father’s a cu…not pleasant man. My brothers aren’t too bright and not much of lookers to be honest. Mum says I got all of the looks and brains.”

“Lucky you.” Joy muttered, stifling a laugh. 

They knew their meal had run long when a burly man in armor entered the room, barking for Red Walder. “Pardon me, my ladies.” He gave them a wink before hurrying after his master who continued to yell at him. 

After lunch, Joy showed her the lower levels of Casterly Rock, the part built into the rock itself. They spent over an hour each in the Golden Gallery and the Hall of Heroes, where honorable Lannisters were laid to rest after death. The old sept was down there, as well as the mines that Joy nearly got them lost in. Joy held the torch as she led Sansa through the not-so-empty dungeons. They then went into the cages that used to hold lions and other animals. On the way back up to the keep at the end of their journey, Joy showed her the Stone Garden; Sansa nearly cried. The weirwood stood in the center, it was massive and beautiful. How it grew in the rock, she didn’t know but she didn’t bother to contemplate. The tree was twisted and looked queer but it was perfect to Sansa. She walked to it and placed a hand against the bark. 

“That’s right, the Starks worship the Old Gods! I forgot, pardon me, Lady Sansa!” Joy said, hitting herself in the forehead with her palm.

“It’s all right, Joy.” Sansa said, smiling. “I worship the New, too.”

“Why both, my lady?”

“I choose not to limit myself.” She said simply. “Would you mind leaving for a moment?”

“Of course, my lady.”

Sansa waited for Joy to step out of the godswood before she knelt down to pray to the Old Gods. She prayed for Robb to gain sense and turn around to Riverrun. She prayed that Jaime would stay within Casterly Rock if Robb did attack Lannisport. She prayed for an alliance between House Stark and House Lannister. She prayed for happiness. She prayed for peace. She prayed that the Old Gods were listening.

She would repeat the prayers later in the sept.

Sansa returned to Joy and they wound their way back up to the keep atop the Rock, finding several gardens, storerooms, barracks, and too many hallways to count along the way. Jaime wasn’t at evening meal. After eating and listening to Joy and Red Walder talk her ear off, she prayed in the sept and returned to their chambers, Joy accompanying her to the door. She shut it and readied herself for bed. She went onto the balcony in her shift and wrapped in a grey cloak. She watched Lannisport as she leaned against the railway. The docks were still busy despite the hour. Ships came and went and she assumed things were being unloaded, though it was too far to see such an activity. Ships sailed so close to the Rock she worried they would crash. 

“Sansa?” She heard Jaime call from the chamber. She hadn’t heard the door open. 

“Out here.” She turned to see him walk through the doorway. He smiled at her as he walked to her. 

“Did you have a pleasant day with Joy?” Jaime asked, his hands coming to her hips. She leaned against his chest. Even through his jerkin, she could still feel the lean muscles. She wrapped her arms around his slim waist.

“I did. And what did my husband do today?” She asked against him. 

“Argued mostly.” Jaime said.

“Over what?”

“My brother’s trial. Your brother’s army. My father’s army. Lannisport. The War of the Five Kings, as they call it. My ineptitude at swordplay.” 

“So quite a bit then?” 

“Yes, my lady. Quite a bit.” She could feel him chuckle.

“Is this why you are so late to bed?” She asked, looking up at him. 

“No.” He pulled away from her and walked back into the chamber. She followed him. He had begun to undress and when he pulled off his shirt, the flickering torch on the wall revealed the yellow bruises forming on his chest. 

“Jaime, what have you been doing?” 

He glanced at her before turning to the bed. “What do you mean? I have been sitting in my solar all day.”

“The bruises, Jaime. You should have kept a shirt on had you not wished for me to see.” Sansa said, her hands on her hips as she stared coldly at him.

“You’re a bit scary when you look like that, you know.” He said as he climbed into bed. She let out a huff and she heard him chuckle. She climbed into bed and he propped himself up on an elbow to face her. “I saw Ser Benedict today. He’s the…”

“I know who he is.”

“Then you can probably guess a reason why I went to see him.”

“Just tell me, Jaime. No secrets.” 

He sighed and ran his handless wrist over her waist. “I asked him to train me. I want to be able to fight with my left hand.” 

“Don’t be ashamed to tell me such a thing.” Sansa said. She grabbed his wrist and pressed the stump to her lips. “I love you no matter what. I want you to remember that.”

“I shall. Now to sleep with you. I have an eventful day planned for you tomorrow.”

“You do?” Excitement coursed through her.

“Yes. Sleep, now.”

“Yes, my lord.” She kissed him softly before cuddling against his chest. 

 

“Joy’s a sweet girl but I wish to show you parts of the castle she doesn’t think to show you.” Jaime said as he popped a grape into his mouth. He had servants bring food up to their chamber to break their fast. Emeline was lacing up Sansa’s dress and Jaime said, “She’ll have no need of you today, Emeline. You may have the day off.”

Her handmaiden looked delighted as she scurried out of the room when her tasks were done. Sansa walked to him and took a piece of fruit. “You’ll spoil her, giving her entire days off.”

“I know.” Jaime said, smiling. “But, today, I plan to spoil you.”

“Do you?”

“Yes. Now eat. You’ll need your strength. There’s much climbing ahead of you.”

“Climbing?” She asked uncertainly.

“Stairs, my love.” She felt uneasy but realized that this was her life now. Casterly Rock was full of stairs. All it was was stone steps. Stone halls. Stone rooms. Stone. Stone. Stone. 

A knock on their door sounded and Jaime bid the intruder permission to enter. Josmyn Peckledon joined them in their chamber and he said with a bow, “Lord Jaime, Lady Sansa. News of Robb Stark’s movement.” 

Sansa tensed as Jaime took the scroll from Peck, who relayed the news aloud, “The Young Wolf moves through the mountains north of the Golden Tooth, my lord.” 

“As we thought he would.” Jaime said, nodding. He handed the scroll back to Josmyn, who burned it in the hearth. Jaime nodded for Peck to leave them and the squire did as he was bid. To Sansa, he said, “Your brother will be upon us within a week.”

Her prayers had not been answered. She wondered why she bothered anymore. 

Hours later, they were in the bowels of the Rock, escaping their responsibilities for a little while. The caverns were located in the far western part of the Rock, near the sea. It was growing colder and colder the deeper they went. Sansa was shivering and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jaime pull the red cloak from his shoulders, she hadn’t thought to wear one. He offered it to her and she took it, wrapping it around her bare shoulders. He continued leading her through the caverns. 

A carving on the wall caught her eye and she stopped to inspect it. It was of two large stick figures and one small squat figure. One of the tall figures had long, wavy string-like hair cascading from its head, the other two had short stringy hair. Sansa smiled. It was Jaime, Cersei, and Tyrion. It had to be.

“Ah, you’ve found my handiwork. A little shaky, I admit, but I haven’t always been as skilled with a dagger.” Jaime said from where she had left him. 

“It’s cute.”

“Cute?” He scoffed. “Not cute. Nothing I do is cute, my lady.”

Sansa laughed and walked back to him, taking his hand. “Stop being modest. That is very cute, my lord.”

Jaime rolled his eyes but led her further on, away from the ‘cute’ carving. Sansa kept her eyes narrowed on the walls for more carvings but found none. She hadn’t been paying attention to their destination. They had arrived at a port. It was so large that massive ships were docked within Casterly Rock itself. Men were loading crates onto ships and taking crates off of them. The mines led directly to the port, tracks coming almost to the water. She suspected that gold could be brought right to the ships and sent off. 

“This was my favorite spot within the Rock as a kid.” Jaime admitted after a moment. “I used to sit over there, by the edge, watching the ships come and go. Watching the sailors dock and go to war. I loved the sounds of the men shouting orders, the feel of the water misting over me as the waves crashed against the rocks below.” 

Sansa smiled and took his real hand in hers. She was glad that he had shared this with her. “It’s magnificent, Jaime.”

He just nodded.

She pulled him away from it after half an hour of exploration. She knew what she wanted and it was easy to find a place to accomplish her plan down here in the labyrinth of nooks and hidden passages. “Take me somewhere less…public.”

A mischievous glint passed though Jaime’s eyes and he pulled her hastily away from the men loading crates onto ships. He led her back through the cavern and through a crack in the wall that she hadn’t seen upon first glance. They had barely been able to squeeze through it and it led to a small cave. 

“Is this where you bring all of the girls?” She joked. Jaime just looked at her. She cast her eyes aside. “Oh.” 

She was forced to push the thought aside when his lips crashed against hers and his tongue infiltrated her mouth. Her hands went to his shirt and she lifted it over his head. He unlaced his breeches and they fell to the floor. He broke from her and pulled his cloak from her shoulders. He laid it on the stone floor. Sansa laid atop it and Jaime laid atop her. Sansa’s dress was too much work so Jaime just pushed it up and, kissing her, slipped his hard member inside of her. She released a moan into his mouth. He smiled against her lips and set a grueling pace inside of her. She placed both hands on his hips to still him. He broke his lips from her to stare at her, hurt. 

“On your back, Ser.” She said, with more strength than she thought she had. He did as he was told, something that surprised Sansa. She hiked up her skirts and slid herself back onto his member. She began to roll her hips over him and put her hands on his chest to stabilize herself. He was gasping at the pleasure she was causing him, her name rolling off of his tongue like it had always belonged there. 

She pulled herself off of him when she knew he was about to release himself. He looked angrier than she had ever seen him. She simply pointed to the stone bench cut into the wall. He scrambled to sit himself upon it. She straddled him, facing him, as she began to slowly slide herself down onto him. Jaime thrust up into her hard. She placed a hand on his stomach and said, “Slow, Jaime.”

“ _Sansa!_ Men have been tortured in more pleasant ways than this.”

“Than perhaps you would prefer me to stop.” Sansa made to stand but Jaime grabbed her waist and forced her back onto his manhood. 

“You will keep doing what you’re doing until I’m finished with you.” 

She smiled and resumed her torture of him. She slowly picked up the pace when she knew he couldn’t take it anymore. He was sweating from the need of release. “Sansa, _please_.”

“Patience, Jaime.”

“Fuck your patience.” He cried out, a whine really. Frustrated, but extremely aroused and incredibly close to releasing, Jaime picked her up. She clung to him to keep from falling. He pressed her against the nearest wall and fucked her with all of his might. He released all he had not a minute later. 

They both collapsed onto the cloak, sweating profusely. He gasped, “Fine. I won’t lead my men into battle. I’ll send Ser Tybolt in my stead. I know that’s what you want.”

Sansa took his hand in hers and squeezed it. “Thank you, Jaime.” He pulled her hand to his lips and pressed them against her skin, his eyes on hers. 

Cersei Lannister was right. Her most powerful weapon was what was between her legs. She asked, “Take me to Lannisport tomorrow?”

“Whatever you wish, my love.”


	12. Robb IV

The bells had greeted them from a mile away. There was no cover surrounding Lannisport and Casterly Rock, not a tree line in sight. He had his army play music with them, the drums drowning out the tolling of the bells. Arrows rained down on them from the towering walls of the city as they approached and dozens of his men fell. But, they made it to the gates without too much bloodshed. The gates of Lannisport smashed open, splintering apart with the force of the ram swung by Lucas Blackwood, Smalljon Umber, and Ser Wendel Manderly. His men charged through and into the city. The City Watch of Lannisport, in red cloaks and black armor dusted in gold, were upon them instantly. There were four or five thousand members of the City Watch and they were well trained, as skilled as any man in his army. This would be no easy sack. 

Robb stood flush against the stone of Casterly Rock, listening to the battle raging in the city a mile away. Sandor Clegane had been the unmistakably hulking figure leading his men. Grey Wind sprinted next to Clegane’s black stallion at full speed, ripping a man’s throat out without breaking stride. The Hound cut down a man who charged out of a nearby armory, pike in hand. He saw Sandor Clegane slice a man in half with his greatsword before taking another’s head clear off a second later. He was fierce if anything, Robb had to give him that. Robb had ordered his men to fan out and close all of the gates as soon as they were in the city. The last thing he wanted was for the sailors from the ships to join the fight.

Roose Bolton stood by Robb’s side, silent as usual. Robb would much rather have Clegane with him, now that his back was actually against the walls of Casterly Rock, now that the time had come to enter the castle. He hoped he could follow Clegane’s instructions. Looking at the entrance, he wondered if Clegane would have fit anyway. It was the size of a child, truthfully. It was very narrow, no one in armor could slip through certainly. He felt naked in his boiled leathers but there was no other way into the Rock. 

“What are we waiting for?” Roose Bolton hissed. He was staring at his king, waiting for his order. Robb was starting to wish he had brought someone else but his other commanders were waging a battle in Lannisport a mile away. It was too late to change his mind.

“You know what we wait for, Bolton. Remain quiet until it happens.”

“And if it doesn’t happen?” 

“Quiet!” He ordered, straining to hear sounds from within the Rock. 

It was only a few more minutes before the unmistakable noises of a massive gate opening came, the one guarding what Sandor Clegane had called the Lion’s Mouth, signaling that someone was riding out to lift the siege of the city below. The troops galloped down the road, fifteen abreast, too many rows to count. Leading the group, in his Lannister red, black, and gold armor and lion’s head helm, was Ser Jaime Lannister. There was no mistaking him. Robb had seen him himself at the Battle of the Whispering Wood. He had known that Ser Jaime couldn’t resist a battle so close to home, not even after losing his sword hand. Lions were ever prideful, Ser Jaime was no exception. 

“Apologies, my king. The lions have never had much in terms of brains.” Roose Bolton acknowledged, watching Ser Jaime Lannister gallop down the road to Lannisport. Until that point, it had been solely the City Watch of Lannisport defending the city against the King in the North’s army but, with the Lannister army barreling down on them, Robb watched his men disperse. As he had told them too. Many took to the walls to rain arrows upon the Lannister men.

Robb tore his eyes away from the city when Ser Jaime’s army was upon it. “Quickly.”

Roose Bolton slipped quietly, and with the agility of a dancer, through the crack in the rock. Robb followed, barely managing to squeeze through. They had entered a small cave, a bench seat carved from the stone walls. There was another small crack in the wall leading further into the Rock. Roose slipped through first followed closely by Robb. It led to a much larger cavern. To the west, they could hear the sea crashing against the rocks. They went east, hurrying as fast as they dared, their boots making little noise on the stone floors. 

Robb’s breath was failing him as he climbed step after step for a quarter of an hour. They finally reached the heart of the Rock. Past the caves, the dungeons, and stables, Robb found the only part of Casterly Rock he had liked thus far. The Stone Garden, Sandor Clegane called it. The weirwood was a beautiful sight, Robb would thank the gods on his way out of the castle if he was successful. 

Reluctantly, Robb tore his eyes away from the tree and followed Roose further into the Rock. As they entered the keep, they were forced to slow. More people were in this part of the castle and they were forced to hide periodically. 

“Your sister’s rooms should be ahead, Your Grace.” Roose Bolton said, pointing toward a large door at the end of the hall. Robb couldn’t remember much about what Clegane had said of the keep. He could hear soldiers near so he knew they must be close. Once he had Sansa, she could protect him and Roose from the household guards and Ser Jaime Lannister. 

“Guards! The Young Wolf is in the Lion’s Den!” Footsteps clamored through the stone hallway but Robb couldn’t focus on that. He was staring at Bolton, who had sounded the alarm. 

“The King in the North can’t tell who’s loyal to him, such a shame, Robb Stark. You could have won the war, had your priorities been the right ones.” Roose Bolton was chastising him as if he were a child. It was in that moment that Robb realized how foolish of an attempt this had been. His mind had been clouded by his love for Sansa. Now, he would rot in the dungeons while Sansa remained in Ser Jaime Lannister’s bed and his own child was born in Riverrun without him. 

Lannister men ran down the corridor, armor clanking as they did. Robb drew his dagger butbefore he could do anything, Roose plunged his own dagger into Robb’s side. He fell to the ground, pressurizing the wound. 

“He was to be unharmed, Bolton.” One of the Lannister men said; some Crakehall probably. 

“Get your maester then. He’ll survive.” Bolton said coldly, staring down at Robb. The Crakehall man glared at Roose Bolton before hurrying off to fetch Maester Creylen. A golden haired man in his 40s approached Robb, still writhing in pain on the ground.

“My name is Ser Damion Lannister. Rise, King in the North, your cell awaits.” Ser Damion said, a sick smirk on his face. When Robb didn’t stand, he turned to the other golden haired men. “Lucion, Daven, take the King in the North to the dungeons. Lord Jaime will deal with him when he returns from Lannisport.”

“Yes, Father.” The one called Ser Lucion said. He and Ser Daven grabbed Robb Stark by the arms while Roose Bolton removed any weapons Robb had on him. Robb spat in his face and, after wiping the spittle away, Roose punched him in his wound, causing Robb to double over in pain.

“Enough, Bolton, or I shall put you in a cell too.” Ser Damion warned. Bolton glared at him but backed away and let Ser Lucion and Ser Daven take Robb away, his feet dragging uselessly behind him. 


	13. Jaime V

Smoke was rising from the city. Shops were engulfed in flame, the City Watch and shop owners attempted to control the blaze. The gates reopened and the sailors ran in, hoping to help with the fires. The streets ran red, strewn with the dead, Lannister and Stark men alike. 

Ser Jaime Lannister stood in the center of the city with the Crakehall brothers. Ser Lyle’s sword was drawn and pressed against Sandor Clegane’s neck. The Hound was dripping in blood, though little of it was his own. He knelt on the ground, glaring at Jaime defiantly.

“I will so love killing you, Hound.” Ser Lyle Crakehall said, a wide, harsh grin on his face. The Hound remained silent, glowering at the Lord of Lannister rather than the Strongboar. 

“You will be killing no one, Lyle.” Jaime said, glaring at Ser Lyle. The Strongboar turned his head away from his liege lord, scowling. Jaime questioned the Hound, “Where is the Young Wolf?”

A deep laugh erupted from Clegane’s throat. Smiling, he said, “Like I would tell you, Kingslayer.”

Jaime stared at him hard for a few seconds before saying to the two Crakehalls, “Take him and any man living to the dungeons. Order the men to do the same.” 

Ser Lyle smiled as he pulled Sandor Clegane to his feet with the held of Ser Tybolt. The Strongboar sheathed his sword but pulled a dagger from his breast, holding it against the Hound’s throat as they walked to Ser Peter Plumm to tell him the order. Josmyn Peckledon walked over to Jaime with his black destrier. Jaime smiled at the young lad, glad he had survived the battle. He took the reigns from his squire and thanked him. With Josmyn by his side, he rode back to Casterly Rock. 

The Lion’s Mouth opened when the archers spotted the approach of their liege lord. Jaime noticed there were several more archers present in each alcove.

“Welcome back, Lord Jaime.” Roose Bolton stood in the center of the Lion’s Mouth.

“Bolton, what are you doing here?” Jaime asked, dismounting his horse. Josmyn took his reigns and led the horses to the stables. 

“I’ve delivered you the King in the North, Ser Jaime.” Bolton said, calmly. 

“Where is Robb Stark?” Jaime mounted the stairs, walking away from Roose Bolton who slowly walked after him.

“In the dungeons. I’m told he was given one of the…nicer cells.”

Jaime nodded and said, “Pick any room in the keep. We shall break our fasts together on the morrow.”

Bolton almost smiled before halting his steps to allow Jaime to walk alone. That was the one thing that Jaime liked about Roose Bolton, he knew when to leave others alone. 

Brienne of Tarth stood outside of his and Sansa’s chamber, hand on the hilt of her sword at all times. Jaime smiled and she lowered her hand to her side. He said, “Thank you, Brienne, but Sansa is safe.”

“You left her unprotected.” Brienne chastised. 

“Did I? I knew you would protect her.” Jaime said, the smile still on his face. Nothing could change his happy mood now. “I didn’t see the need to tell you to protect her when I knew you would do so on your own. Besides, she was never in true danger. Robb wouldn’t have hurt her, she’s the whole reason he came.”  
Brienne frowned and asked, “What happened to him?”

“The dungeons are his new home. For now.” Jaime said solemnly. Brienne gave him a look. “Don’t start. The boy was foolish to come here. He needs time to clear his head. Now, excuse me, I have a worried wife to attend to.”

Brienne just sighed and opened the door for him. Jaime entered the room and shut the door behind him. Sansa sat on the seat under the window; she looked up at his entrance and ran toward him. He could tell that she was crying and had been for some time. She wrapped her arms around him and sobbed against his chest.

“You said you weren’t going to lead them! I saw you gallop off!” She was hysterical and shaking in his arms. 

“Sansa, it is my duty as acting Lord of Casterly Rock to defend my lands. I am the Shield of Lannisport. Your brother was…”

“Was? Did you kill him?” The pain in her voice was too much for him. He didn’t like it when she was hurting.

“No, my love, I didn’t kill him. He wasn’t in Lannisport. He snuck into the castle with Roose Bolton; only, he didn’t know Bolton is a Lannister man. He betrayed your brother and turned him into the guards.”

Sansa just shook her head. “But the Boltons are Northernmen.”

“They are.” He said slowly. “But my father has made many deals with them and they came around to our side.” 

“Do you trust Roose Bolton?” She asked, hands on her hips. She looked so childish to him and he was reminded of her age.

Jaime shook his head. “A man who can be bought so easily is no man I value.”

“Buying people is all the Lannisters do. At least my brother’s army is loyal to him because they believe in him. He’s a good king, a proper one!” Sansa spoke with distaste, staring at Jaime coldly. 

Jaime stepped away from her and sighed, missing the feel of her in his arms immediately. “Sansa, my men are loyal to me. I’m their acting liege lord…”

She interrupted, “Robb’s a king!”

“A pretender to the throne!” Jaime was losing his patience now. Sansa’s face screwed up as if she had been injured. He figured, in a way, she had. He shut his eyes briefly and tried to collect himself. He could hear her feet shuffling on the floor and when he opened his eyes, she wasn’t in the room. He walked onto the balcony and found her staring at the still-smoking Lannisport. He stood next to her against the low stone railing. He looked at her and sighed when he saw the fresh tears on her face. “Sansa, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said…”

“You’re right, you shouldn’t have!” She said, turning to him. “Do you know what it’s like to not know which side you wish to prevail in a battle? Do you know what it’s like to wish ill on both your husband’s house and your own family’s?” She cupped his face, staring into his eyes. “You don’t, but I do. I didn’t know if I hoped you or Robb to win on the battlefield. I decided on you since I knew you wouldn’t harm my brother.”

“Robb will never be given ill treatment at my hand, Sansa.”

“Thank you.” 

Jaime cupped Sansa’s face and kissed her with more passion than he thought possible. Sansa’s hands gripped his wrists so tight it was as if she never wanted to let go of him again. He could feel her tears on his cheek, wetting his face. It nearly broke his heart. He pulled away from her lips and rested his forehead against hers. 

“I will return by even fall.” 

“Where are you going now? I just got you back!” Sansa said.

“I must visit with my new captive.”

“Jaime!” Sansa said, ready to plead for Robb’s life. “Don’t hurt him.”

Jaime gave her a sad smile and promised, “No harm will come to Robb Stark, you have my word.”

She kissed him lightly and whispered, “Thank you, Jaime.”

 

The dungeons were cold and Jaime pulled his cloak around him. Many men shouted at him from their cells, where they were overfilled by at least 10 men in each. He went to the cell that he knew the King in the North occupied. He grabbed the torch from the bracket outside of the cell and entered, unlocking the door with the key only he had.

Robb Stark sat against the far wall, his head in his hands. At the creak of the door, he looked up, hopeful. Seeing Jaime’s face, he scowled and stared at the grimy wall. “What do you want, Kingslayer?”

“A chat, King in the North.”

Robb looked at him with absolute hatred before turning away. Jaime walked into the room and put the torch in the bracket next to the door. He sat against the door, his knees drawn to his chest. He looked at Robb, who was just scowling at him. Jaime said, “This cell is much nicer than any you had me in.”

Robb didn’t speak. Jaime said, “You know, this won’t be much of a chat if you don’t reply.”

“What do you wish for me to say, Kingslayer?”

“Speak your mind, for a start.” 

“How’s this for a start: I wish to slice you balls to brain.” Robb Stark, disgust seeping into each word he spoke. 

“Your mother saved my life, sending me away.” Jaime said, conversationally. “How would she like it if you were to kill me.” 

“It was a treasonous act.”

“She did it for Sansa and the little one.” Jaime said softly, leaning against the wall. “She told me to keep them safe…”

“Arya is safe, with Mother.” Robb said harshly. “And is this what you call keeping Sansa safe?”

“She is safe. Have I mistreated her? Has she been hurt in any way? I have protected her since our marriage and I will protect her until my death.” 

“You have no honor. I wouldn’t trust you to protect my cupbearer.” Robb said with disdain. “Certainly not now that you’ve lost your sword hand.”

“I can still fight. You would have seen it today had you been in Lannisport.” Jaime said. With an almost-smile, he added, “What made you think you could trust Bolton anyway?”

“The Boltons are Northernmen.”

Jaime almost laughed. “You Starks are too loyal to your own kind. How is one to make friends when they push them away?” Jaime chastised. 

Robb looked irritated. “Better to be loyal than have the fatal flaw of pride.”

“We lions are prideful but, you wolves are stubborn.” Jaime knew that if they continued this type of conversation, nothing would get accomplished. His demeanor seemed to change in an instant as he said, “Robb, your men depend on their king. You behaving in such a way will not get them released.”

“Like you would release my men. I wouldn’t do that. I would kill all of them.”

“You didn’t after the Whispering Wood.” Jaime reminded him. 

“My mistakes have shaped me, Kingslayer.”

“Clearly not.” Jaime looked around the cell, frowning. He didn’t know how he could make Robb come around to his side. “You are my brother by law. You will not be harmed. You have my word, Robb.”

“I would never promise you the same.” Robb said, his upper lip curled in disgust. “There’s no word for what you have done in your life. But I remember, I could never trust you, you are a kinslayer as well as a kingslayer.” Robb’s eyes narrowed at Jaime.

“What kin did I slay?” Jaime asked, eyebrows raised.

Robb shook his head slightly. “Your cousin. The messenger. Ser Alton Lannister.”

“Ah, yes.” He said sadly. “In an unsuccessful escape attempt. Should’ve just let me go, he needn’t have died in vain.”

“You shouldn’t have attempted an escape.”

There was silence for several minutes before Jaime spoke, “You know, _King_ _Robb_ , had you come to the gates alone and asked for a chat, I would have let you in and we could have talked like men.” Jaime said sincerely.

“Men talk with steel, _Kingslayer._ ” Robb spat back. 

Jaime sighed, shaking his head. “I thought it possible for us to move past our differences, for Sansa’s sake. But, you’re too much of a child for any progress to be made. Enjoy rotting. Your men depend upon you, yet you give me nothing to work with.” 

Jaime rose to leave but he was halted when Robb said, in barely more than a whisper, “Sansa deserves better than you.” 

Jaime nodded. “She does.”

Robb just looked at him strangely. “Do you love her?”

“With all my heart.” It was the only thing that Jaime knew for sure. 

Robb just nodded. “Would you give her Grey Wind for me? He shouldn’t be locked up. Sansa’s own direwolf was murdered at the order of your sister. Lady was innocent. Please, have Sansa look after him.”

Jaime was tempted to smile, his face betrayed him and it broke through. “I will.”

He grabbed the torch from the bracket and exited the cell, locking it behind him. As he walked to the old lion cages, Jaime couldn’t help but feel that they had made some progress. 

The massive grey direwolf was in the last of the old lion cages; Jaime had walked past men packed in by the dozen into cages fit for one animal. He almost felt sorry for them. As he stood outside of the cell, Jaime was frozen in fear. He remembered the feeling of terror that had paralyzed him when Robb had brought the direwolf into his cell at one of the camps. It was a vicious beast and he didn't want it around Sansa. But he had promised and without his word, he was nothing; just a man with one hand. 

A guard helped him slip a noose around the direwolf’s throat. He pulled the beast out as it snapped at him; clearly it remembered him and clearly it knew he wasn’t a friend. It was a long journey up to the keep but when he stood outside of the door to his and Sansa’s chamber with the beast snarling at him, he felt accomplished and happy. Brienne still stood there and she eyed the beast with trepidation but didn’t say a word. Jaime opened the door and let the animal run into the room ahead of him. He heard Sansa shriek and he rushed in, his hand on the hilt of his sword. 

But, what he found wasn’t the beast mauling her, instead, Sansa had her arms wrapped around the direwolf, it’s pink tongue lapping happily at her face. Sansa looked at him through the fur and smiled before nuzzling further into Grey Wind’s neck. The beast was nearly as tall as she and he wondered how many in the castle would run in fright from it in the days to come.

“Robb wished for you to have him.” Jaime said, smiling.

Sansa broke away from the direwolf and stood up from her crouched position. She placed her hand on Grey Wind’s head and continued to scratch him but her eyes were on Jaime. “You didn’t…”

“No!” Jaime said defensively. “I told you he would not be harmed. He didn’t want the beast in chains. And he told me of Lady…”

The look on Sansa’s face cut him off. It grew sad faster than he knew anyone could change emotions. He knew Lady had been dead since Darry and the false attack on Joffrey. That was two years ago. Jaime walked over and, despite Grey Wind’s growls, he took Sansa in his arms. The wolf immediately quieted and sat down on its haunches. Against her hair, he whispered, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up the past.” 

“It’s okay.” She said quietly. 

He smiled to himself and pulled away from her at the sound of a knock on the door. Grey Wind jumped up into a protective stance and growled. Jaime bid the intruder to come in but the second Maester Creylen entered, he nearly backed out again.

“Pardon, my lord, but should such a beast be loose?” The maester was visibly uncomfortable as he locked eyes with the direwolf. Grey Wind’s growl deepened.

Jaime shook his head. “Do you not remember the lions we used to have here?”

“There hasn’t been a lion in the Rock since your grandfather, Tytos’, time, my lord. And then they were caged.” He nearly yelled it and when he did, the fat of his neck jiggled. 

“Why are you here, Maester?” Jaime asked as Sansa calmed Grey Wind.

“A raven, my lord.” Maester Creylen was holding a letter with its unbroken seal. Jaime walked to him, knowing well that the maester wouldn’t approach the direwolf. He thanked him and took the scroll from the old man, who scurried out of the room, watching the direwolf as he went. 

Sansa looked at Jaime with curiosity. His eyes on hers, he broke the seal from Grand Maester Pycelle and unrolled the parchment. He looked down at the words on the parchment and nearly broke down.

 

_ Lord Jaime, _

 

_ My deepest sympathies to you in your time of grieving. Your lord father’s death at the hands of the Imp has taken all by surprise. The Imp has fled, Varys is in the wind.  _

_ Grand Maester Pycelle _

 

Sansa gripped his wrist to stop it from shaking. She wrapped her arm tightly around his waist and said, “Varys released Tyrion? Why?”

“That’s what you took from this letter?” Jaime was infuriated. He pulled away from her and waved the letter in her face. “Tyrion murdered my father and all you care about is that Varys released him?!”

Sansa stepped away from him and Grey Wind began to growl again, sensing that she was frightened. “I thought you disliked your father.”

“That doesn’t mean I didn’t respect him.”

“But you love Tyrion.” Sansa said, confused. 

“He murdered my father. If I ever see him, I’ll split him in two.” Jaime said, his lip curled up in disgust.


	14. Sansa V

She had never noticed how there was a small bit of red flecked into the gold colored stone of the ceiling. She had been staring at it for over an hour now, listening to Jaime’s soft snores. He had been restless all night: awake and trying not to cry one minute, in a fitful sleep the next. He had finally settled into a sleep that would last until morning less than an hour ago but, by that time, Sansa had been woken up completely by him pacing the room, muttering to himself. She asked him what the matter was but, he ignored her and continued his pacing. Finally, he had returned to bed and pulled her to him, pressing soft kisses to her neck and acting like nothing was wrong. After, he had fallen asleep, she had not. 

Laying silently, listening to Jaime’s breathing, Sansa began to think of her brother, wondering if he, too, was awake many, many floors below her. She knew he would be, Robb wouldn’t let his guard down, not in the lion’s den. 

She slowly pulled the furs off of her and slid out of bed at a snail’s pace. Her feet landed on the floor and she dressed as quickly as she could without making a sound. Grey Wind had risen from his slumber and was following her around the room, possessing remarkable grace for such a large creature. Sansa grabbed the keys from Jaime’s belt, which lay discarded on the floor, and beckoned Grey Wind to follow her. At the door, she opened it inch by inch so it wouldn’t creak. She closed it the same way and when she turned around, she was confronted by a spear, held by Josmyn Peckledon. He cowered slightly at the sight of the direwolf but, otherwise, held his ground.

“Lady Sansa, what are you doing? It’s late!” He said, lowering the spear an inch or two. She saw he had several more behind him. _Are we in danger?_

“Technically it’s early, Jos.” She replied. She mustered up some courage to add, “And I wish to speak with my brother, King Robb.”

The squire hesitated before saying, “Don’t you wish to wait until morning? So your lord husband can accompany you?” She stared at him defiantly. He continued, “I cannot in good faith let you go alone, nor can I let you go without alerting Lord Jaime of where you have gone.”

Sansa grabbed his arm forcefully, using strength she didn’t know she had, and said harshly, “You will do neither. I will go alone. You will not tell Lord Jaime you saw me nor where I am going. You will not wake him. Do you understand?”

Grey Wind was snarling as quiet as possible at Josmyn and the boy had backed himself against the wall. Finally, the squire sputtered out a hasty, “As you please, my lady.”

“Good.” Sansa took off swiftly down the stairs, Grey Wind at her heels. They made it down to the dungeons in half an hour’s time, giving her plenty of time to think of what to say to her brother. But, as she hurried between the rows of cells, listening to the deep snores of the men imprisoned, she forgot everything she had prepared. She slowed to a walk and eventually stopped, leaning against the wall between two cells. She leaned her head against it, thinking. 

“You look lost, little bird.” Grey Wind jumped up and started growling at the man in the cell and Sansa jumped at the voice. She recognized it and turned to see the gruff, burned face of Sandor Clegane staring at her through the thick bars. 

“Sandor! Do you serve my brother?” She asked, approaching him. She ran her hand through Grey Wind’s fur, calming him. The Hound watched her as she came closer, a smile distorting his grotesque features. She placed her hands on the bars, touching her fingers lightly to his. 

“Aye, I do, my lady.” He replied. 

“Why? You’re not a Northernman.” She asked, curiously. “You were Joffrey’s guard. Why are you serving Robb?” 

Clegane took a moment to answer. “I only agreed to join once I heard the mission, little bird.”

“And what was that?”

“To rescue you.”

“I’m in no need of rescuing, Sandor.” 

“I reckon you are.” She raised her eyebrow at him. He continued, “Remember when I saved you during the riots?” Sansa nodded. “I didn’t do that so you could waste your life away with Jaime Fucking Lannister.”

“You did it because you cared for me.” She whispered. 

“Aye, I care for you. Don’t waste another second on the Kingslayer. He doesn’t deserve it.”

Sansa pulled her hands away from his and took a step back. “He deserves my love more than anyone else. What gives you the right to tell me what to do? We are not friends, Sandor Clegane, I don’t know why you thought to join my brother’s army but you were wrong to do so. You’re no Northernman, my brother cares not for you; you are nothing.” Sansa turned on her heel and marched down the hall to what she thought was Robb’s cell. He was, in fact, a few more down the row, she unlocked the door and slipped inside, bringing the direwolf with her. 

Robb was propped against the wall and as she approached him, she felt like she was betraying her husband. Jaime wouldn’t be pleased when he found out. Robb looked toward the door when it opened, uninterested to make much of an effort. Upon seeing who it was, he tried to stand.

“Don’t, Robb.” Sansa said, pulling the skin from her hip and offering it to him. He drank a few sips before handing it back and Sansa set it on the floor next to him. 

They looked at each other for a second before Robb said, “If you don’t give me a hug, I’ll resign myself to starvation.”

Sansa smiled and sank into Robb’s arms. It was an awkward hug, one of his wrists was manacled and the chain hit Sansa hard in the side as Robb hugged her fiercely. He winced as he held her tight to him — Sansa saw a bandage under his tunic but didn’t question it. She figured he had been injured in the attempt to “rescue” her. They hadn’t seen each other in over a year and it was odd to meet like this. When they broke apart, she sat across from him on clean straw that seemed freshly placed. He had been in the cell for 18 or so hours but it was still relatively clean. A bucket of water sat near him, ready for his washing if he wished to take it. A plate of food sat near him, untouched. He even had a chamber pot that seemed to have been emptied.

“You’re being treated well?” She asked, looking back at him after her analysis of the cell.

Robb made an odd face and said, “Yes, your husband is a generous captor; better than I was to him.”

“I will have you released, Robb, I promise.” Sansa replied, reaching out and taking his hand. She grasped it firmly in her own and he stared at it. She asked, “What’s the matter?”

“I fear you have more faith in your husband than he deserves.” He said harshly. 

“I fear you misjudge Jaime.” She whispered. 

Robb looked at her, really looked at her for over a minute. “Something’s different about you. What’s happened? Why are you so loyal to him?”

“He saved me from Joffrey. You don’t know what he did to me. You don’t want to know. Once Jaime came back, Joffrey never touched me again; Jaime never allowed it.” Sansa spoke in a quiet voice but it was so silent in the cell, Robb heard her perfectly. “Jaime’s been so patient with me, doesn’t want me to do anything I’m not ready for.”

Her hand went to her stomach by its own power, a movement not missed by her brother’s eyes. “You’re with child.”

She looked at him. “I haven’t bled since weeks before we married.”

“End it. End it now, Sansa. Don’t let it grow into a Lannister.” Robb pleaded, his voice desperate. Sansa pulled her hand out of his and went toward the door, upset. Grey Wind didn’t follow, he remained near his master.

She rounded on her brother. “You don’t understand, do you? You’re blinded by hatred. I _love_ him, Robb. He’s my husband.”

Robb just shook his head. “You should know better than anyone what Lannisters are like, Sansa! Jaime attacked our father in the streets! Joffrey had our father executed! You lived with them for over a year in King’s Landing, alone. Joffrey raped you. I’m certain Cersei tormented you…”

“Cersei didn’t make my stay easy, that’s true. But, she didn’t torment me. Joffrey was the true cause of my distress. And you do remember why Jaime attacked father? Mother arrested his brother. Think, wouldn’t you do the same if Bran or Rickon were taken?”

“Bran and Rickon are dead!” Robb shouted. 

Sansa didn’t flinch but continued, “Look what you’ve done when you thought I was taken against my will.” She knew she had him, she was right. 

Robb didn’t speak for minutes. He finally said, “When he visited me yesterday, I asked if he loved you. You know his answer?” Sansa just stared at him. “He said, ‘With all my heart.’ Why would he say that? Why does he love you so?”

She shrugged. “I’m still trying to figure that out myself. But, he does. I’m his wife. I’m pregnant with his child. Robb, please, be civil. He’s not the man you captured over a year ago. He’s changed. Robb, you must believe me.”

He seemed to be considering it, taking his time. “If you get him to release me, I may be able to be civil.”

Sansa nodded. “That’s good enough for now.”


	15. Jaime VI

Jaime woke early that morning, finding Sansa sound asleep. He wondered when she had returned that night. Peck had come in not long after sleep had finally welcomed him, telling him where his lady wife had gone. Jaime thanked him but did nothing about it; Sansa was old enough to make her own choices. If she wanted to visit her brother, she was allowed to. He was hurt, however, that she felt the need to sneak around behind his back. 

He dressed quietly, wishing not to wake her. He slipped out of the room and down the many halls to the Stone Garden where Ser Benedict Broom awaited him. Sansa was the only one not in chains who worshipped the Old Gods so this was the ideal place to avoid someone walking in. A sparring sword was waiting for him, leaning against the weirwood in the center of the godswood.

“You’re late.” The master-at-arms said lazily. Jaime continued to approach him at a steady pace, his tone not fazing him. He grabbed the sword from the bark of the tree and approached Benedict. The other man always liked to taunt him, tease him that he still had both hands. He tossed his sword between his two hands. Jaime knew that he was joking every time he did it but, it bugged him occasionally. 

Jaime had known Benedict almost all of his life. He had trained him when he was a young boy; Benedict was young himself, in his 20s. Now, Ben was in his mid-50s, but still spry for his age. Jaime thought Old Ben was the reason he was such an adept swordsman, he hoped he could make him one again. 

Benedict attacked him, their clashing swords filling the air with the song of steel. They took turns attacking, sometimes Benedict would have him on the run, other times, Jaime would nearly have Old Ben pinned. Their practice went on until sunup and they ended it there. Jaime wiped the sweat from his face and thanked Ser Benedict, telling him to meet him that night at sundown. He was vowing to truly commit to his training. 

 

Jaime made for the great hall and found his guest already seated, waiting for him. Roose Bolton watched his approach and idly rolled the scroll that sat in front of him across the table and back again. He plucked it from the table with his thumb and index finger and offered it to Jaime as he past him on his way to his seat. Jaime took it and broke the twin tower and bridge seal as he sat. The servants hurried forward to bring the food they had been waiting until his arrival to put forth on the table.

Roose Bolton’s cold eyes were on him as Jaime tried to read the note. Some days, he had more trouble making sense of the letters on the page than others. It normally had to do with stress now that he was older. Today, with Bolton’s eyes on him, it took him nearly two minutes to read the note. 

 

_ You have something that’s mine. I want it back. Serve me Wolf and Lion won’t be for dinner. _

 

Jaime set the note down and leaned his elbows on the table. He leaned his head in his hands.

“What news?” Bolton asked. Jaime turned his head in his hands and peered at him. His look was still cold but curious as he stared at him. 

“Walder Frey wants the Stark boy.” Jaime replied, spearing a sausage on the end of his fork. 

“And you have reserves?”

Jaime leaned against the back of the chair, trying to act like the man’s superior. He didn’t feel like it, Roose Bolton was cold and calculating, seeming like much more of a leader at the moment. Jaime had bags under his eyes and was physically and mentally drained from a horrible night of trying to sleep then training this morning. “Walder Frey doesn’t make demands of me, I make demands of him.”

“And what do you demand of him?” His eyes were on Jaime’s, they were a few shades darker than milk and always put Jaime on edge. They were eerie and he hated looking at them. 

Jaime didn’t hesitate in saying, “I’ll demand him to stand down. He’ll have no choice.”

Roose let out a harsh laugh. “He has every choice. He doesn’t answer to you. You’re not his lord.” He paused. “Why not just give him Robb Stark?”

Jaime shot him a look. “And have my wife hate me for the rest of our days? I think not.”

“Walder Frey will not stand down. Robb Stark slighted him. He demands blood.”

“Then blood is what he shall have.”

Roose Bolton nodded, a dreadful smile on his face. “Shall I send word for my bastard to bring the remainder of my army from the Dreadfort?”

Jaime shook his head. “No, we have plenty. 

Bolton nodded again. “He almost came anyway. He didn’t want to miss Edmure Tully’s wedding.” Jaime looked at him peculiarly. Bolton continued, “Ramsay loves a good slaughter.”  
“ _Slaughter_?” Jaime felt like his blood was beginning to boil. 

Roose’s voice didn’t change in its tone. “Yes. You do know of the plan your father had with the Freys? The one to slaughter the Starks at the feast?”

He had no knowledge of such plan. “You were involved in the planning of this?”

“Of course, my lord.” He was practically beaming — it made Jaime sick.

“Ser Tybolt!” Jaime shouted, half rising from his seat. The eldest Crakehall was at his side immediately, a surprising feat for such a large man. 

“Yes, Lord Jaime?” 

“Take Roose Bolton to the dungeons. The blacker the better.” Jaime said, his green eyes on Roose’s light gray ones the entire time he spoke. Tybolt Crakehall grabbed Roose Bolton by the arms and, with the help of his youngest brother, Merlon, he dragged him out of the hall. 

Jaime settled back into his seat and idly pushed what was left of his food across his plate. He slid the food away from him across the table and stood up. He walked in the direction the Crakehalls had disappeared with Roose Bolton; he was, in fact, head to the same destination: the dungeons. The keys jangling on his hip, he made quite the racket as he took the stairs two at a time, trying to reach the cell he desired as quickly as possible. He unlocked the door and walked through it. 

It was still clean and he was happy to find that the gaoler was treating him fairly. Robb sat against the far wall, staring at Jaime as he walked further into the room. Without preamble, Jaime said, “Fancy going to war?”

A throaty laugh erupted from the King in the North. “I thought we were already at war.”

The older man shook his head. “We’ve been playing at war. But we have a common enemy now.”

“And who’s that?”

“Walder Frey.”

Robb just scoffed, leading Jaime to produce the scroll from his pocket. He offered it to him. Robb took it suspiciously but read it over several times. He handed it back as he said, “Walder Frey and I have a pact. This is easily forged.”

“Do I look like I can write as a man nearing 100?” 

“No, I imagine you write like you’re in swaddling clothes yet.” Robb said, looking at Jaime’s metal right hand. “One of your men then. Your maester even.”

Jaime shook his head. “Walder Frey is dangerous, you know it as well as I. You’ve slighted him more than once.”

The Northernman seemed to be thinking on something, Jaime allowed him his time. He said, “You may be right but, he can’t take Casterly Rock.”

Jaime said quickly, “He could take Winterfell.” 

Robb’s blue eyes turned dark in an instant. “Winterfell may be a ruin, but it’s home. He’ll never take Winterfell.”

Jaime walked toward Robb and grabbed his shackles. He slid the key in and unlocked them. Rubbing his wrist, Robb looked up at the Lannister man. Jaime just said, “We have an alliance then.”

Pushing himself to his feet, Robb’s eyes narrowed on Jaime. “Why?”

“If I don’t give you up, Frey will have my head. I quite like my head.”

“Why won’t you give me up?”

“I’ve said it before, no harm will come to you. I promised that to your sister.” Jaime began walking out of the cell, not looking over his shoulder to see if Robb was following. He knew he would. 

As he led the way up to the keep, Jaime said, “Now, we have to attack swiftly and ruthlessly.”

“We can’t be swift from Casterly Rock. It’s a three week journey.” Robb called up the stairs to him.

“Yes. Which is why we will make camp at Riverrun.” Jaime replied with a nod.

“Still Riverrun is another week at a good pace.”

“It’s good that I have someone to send ahead to distract the old man.”

“And who would that be?” Robb asked curiously.

Jaime said, with a sense of arrogance, “His grandson.” 

 

Jaime and Robb sat across from each other in his solar, Sansa stood behind her brother, a hand on his shoulder so he didn’t rise to strangle her husband. The men shot daggers at each other while Sansa looked hard at her husband. They had finally reached an agreement on their plan of action, but it had come after lengthy arguments and many insults hurled between the men. They all waited in silence now. 

The door opened and Brienne of Tarth escorted Red Walder Frey in before leaving. His aunt Genna’s youngest child stood awkwardly near the door and Jaime watched him. He had never been a timid boy by any means, but standing there, Red Walder was practically shaking. He knew that word of what had been in the note from Walder Frey had circulated the castle, although all ravens were meant to be secrets. In a place as big as Casterly Rock, secrets got out. Red Walder thought he was in trouble. 

“Come closer, Walder.” Jaime said, beckoning with his right hand to show that he wasn’t all that intimidating. Red Walder walked over slowly and stood near the edge of the desk. Jaime cleared his throat before saying, “First, you are in no trouble.” The young Frey actually let out a sigh of relief. “Second, we have use of you, if you’ll help us.”

“Anything, my lord.”

“Sit.” Jaime said, motioning to a chair near the window. Red Walder scurried past Robb Stark as quickly as possible and sat near Jaime. Sansa smiled reassuringly at him. Red Walder kept his eyes on his lord, waiting. Jaime explained, “We will send you ahead of the armies to your grandfather at the Twins. You will tell him that you escaped Casterly Rock with news of the Lannister army’s approach. Of our attack. You will tell him that you couldn’t risk a raven…”

“Must we tell him everything, _Kingslayer_? He’s a page!” Robb protested rather loudly.

“Yes. He’s all we have, _King._ ” Jaime said harshly. “Without him, all we have is an attack and thousands more will die. With this, we have a surprise of two additional armies. So yes, he will know everything!”

Robb sat like a surly child while Jaime explained the logistics of the plan: they were leaving on the morrow; Red Walder would have an escort to kill any Frey scouts before they could bring word of the armies’ movements back to the Twins; they would add Edmure Tully’s army to theirs at Riverrun before making their way to the Twins; the Lannisters would attack first; the Starks would come down from the hill while the Tullys came from the water on both sides.

Jaime told Red Walder to pick any horse he wanted from the stables and to go get a good night’s sleep. The young boy ran off, a smile on his face. Jaime knew that he held no love for his family. The Lannister’s eyes settled on the Stark man’s, whose held reservations. “He’ll do a good job.”

“If he doesn’t, Walder Frey will know exactly what’s coming for him.” Robb said, rising from his seat. 

Jaime did the same and said, “Red Walder won’t betray us.”

“I’ve thought others wouldn’t betray me then I received a dagger in the side for my trouble. I hope your people are more loyal than mine were.” Robb said as he walked out of the solar. Brienne was waiting to escort him to his chambers. Jaime had asked her to stand guard — he had to convince Robb that he wasn’t a prisoner still, that Brienne was for his protection and not to keep him in his chambers. Robb was stubborn and a child still. 

 

 

Jaime followed Sansa into their chamber half an hour later and shut the door behind them. They went to war tomorrow and he didn’t know if he would be back here with her again. He walked to the side table and began to undo the straps of his metal hand. He had mastered the ability to unleash its attachment to his arm with only one hand — he figured he would be doing it for the rest of his life, he had better get good at it. He honestly hated the thing, but he would feel humiliated it he went around without it. He would feel like he wasn’t whole. The hand made him look normal because it was shaped like a real one. He didn’t like looking too much like a cripple.

He turned around, free of the dreadful hand, to find Sansa standing in the middle of the room, facing him. His head turned a few degrees to the side as he surveyed her. She looked so timid, just like Red Walder had when he entered the solar earlier. He crossed the floor in two strides to reach her. He grabbed her hand and asked, “What pains you?”

She looked up at him under thick lashes and said, “I met with Maester Creylen this morning.”

His face turned ashen. He reached up and caressed her cheek, almost wishing that he hadn’t taken his fake hand off so he could hold her properly. “Have you taken ill, my love?”

She shook her head vigorously. He asked, getting more worried by the second, “Then what is the matter?”

She worried her lip before a nervous smile took over. When she spoke, it was in a rush with barely a break for breath. “He told me I should wait another month to tell you so we could be sure, but with Joffrey’s death then Tyrion’s betrayal and your father’s death and everything, I wanted something good to happen to you.”

“Sansa…” He began, but she shook her head to let him know that she needed to get it out. 

“I’m with child, Jaime.”

He stared at her for several moments, feeling the tears sting at his eyes. He honestly never thought he would be a father again. A child by Sansa would be able to grow up and actually call him “father” and not be shunned by the world. He would be able to teach his child how to shoot an arrow, thrust a sword, ride a horse. He didn’t know how much he wanted it until this very moment. 

Jaime kissed Sansa fiercely, trying to let her know how much it meant to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back with as much passion as she had; he could tell that she understood. Against her lips, he whispered, “I love you.”

She smiled and said, “I love you too,” before pulling him toward the bed. 


	16. Robb V

Riverrun loomed before them, tall and formidable. The scouts and the boy called “Red Walder” were still with them at this point of the journey. The boy would break apart from them when they left Riverrun and reach his grandfather days before the armies. 

Robb still disliked the plan, even more than he disliked the man who had devised it. The golden haired lion rode next to him on an impressive black destrier, which — like everything else the Lannisters owned — boasted just how much gold his family had. Sansa rode a humble red mare and Robb wondered if Jaime was using that as an insult to him. He thought not since the Lannister man did seem to have true affection for Sansa. The mare was likely chosen for its gentle nature — Sansa wasn’t great at riding horses. 

With the castle directly in front of them, Robb kicked his grey stallion into a gallop. He heard the hooves of another horse clattering just behind his, Ser Brynden Tully the rider. He and the Blackfish were to enter the castle alone and explain the situation that had brought Stark and Lannister forces together. They hadn’t sent a raven to alert the Tullys of their coming — too risky. 

At the sight of the Stark banner clenched in the Blackfish’s fist, the gate lowered over the dry moat and the two riders entered the bailey. Robb and the Blackfish dismounted and Brynden planted the Stark banner in the dirt. 

“Little prat couldn’t meet us himself?” The Blackfish barked, noticing the obvious absence of Lord Edmure Tully in the welcome party. 

Robb rolled off the insult and let himself be led into the castle. His mother waited just inside the keep with his youngest sister.

“What’s going on Robb?” The worry was etched on every inch of her face and Robb wanted to ease it, he really did. He just didn’t know if what he had to say would do the trick. 

“Where’s Edmure?” He, instead, asked. 

“Why couldn’t the cunt see to us himself?” Brynden spat, clearly upset by it. 

“Language, uncle!” Catelyn said, nodding toward Arya. The girl was grinning at her great-uncle’s vulgar language. 

“My apologies, sweet one.” The Blackfish said to Arya. He slipped something into her small hand, Robb barely noticed the exchange. Arya’s eyes lit up. He was about to ask, but his uncle came down the stairs. 

“Robb, Uncle! Safe journey, I hope.” Lord Edmure Tully looked like he had been handling the burden of the war all on his lonesome — his face was lined and not from scars earned on the battlefield, with ones from worry, ones that hadn’t been on it when Robb had left mere weeks ago. “Let’s talk in my solar—”

“No, we haven’t the time to make that journey. This is of paramount importance, Uncle. The chambers above the Great Hall will do.” Robb was already leading the way there. Edmure followed, scowling. 

They settled into the private audience chamber above the Hall and Edmure took the lord’s seat. Robb chose to remain standing, as did the Blackfish. Catelyn sat next to her brother, Arya crosslegged at her feet. 

“Why do you march with a Lannister army, Nephew?” Edmure said, bluntly.

“He’s your king, _Nephew._ Treat him as such.” The Blackfish spat, glaring at Edmure.

“And when will you start treating me with respect, Uncle?” 

“When you bloody deserve it—”

“You’re acting like children!” All three men looked at the little girl on the ground, eyes wide. Arya shrugged, as if to shake off her outburst. 

“She’s right, you are. Now, behave like adults or I’ll send you to bed without supper and take away your war.” Catelyn scolded, her voice very cross. 

Edmure grumbled something that sounded like, “ _Fine._ ”

Robb’s jaw clenched momentarily, annoyed by his uncle’s childish acts. Finally, he spoke. “Jaime Lannister and I have made a pact—”

Edmure scoffed. “A pact with a Lannister? What’s that worth? He’ll turn on you as soon as you blink.”

“We have a common enemy.” Robb’s voice was even, he forced himself to speak civilly to his uncle. Edmure was a lord after all and he a king. “Lord Frey called for my head, and if I wasn’t given up, he called for Lannister’s…”

“So? Let him take fucking Lannister’s!” Edmure yelled, slamming his hand down on the side of his seat. 

“Edmure!” Catelyn snapped. 

He sulked in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. 

“Sansa’s here—”

“Sansa?” Catelyn asked, her hand flying to her mouth. Robb nodded. She smacked her brother over the head and said, “Let them in.”

“But it’s Jaime Lannister!” 

_“Let them in!”_ She yelled. “If your king says it’s okay, _it’s okay_!”

“Last time Jaime Lannister was in this castle, he had me imprisoned in my own dungeons!” Edmure screamed. “The only way I’ll allow him into Riverrun is if he sleeps in the dungeons. Fitting, no?”

“ _No,_ ” Robb snapped, glaring at his uncle, “Lord Jaime will have a room befitting his status as Warden of the West.”

He and Edmure glared at each other for nearly a minute before Edmure finally gave in. “ _Fine._ Open the fucking gates!”

 

No banners flew that night as both the Lannister and Stark armies set up camp outside of Riverrun, in case riders passing saw and reported to anyone. Robb’s guard passed through the gates as well as Jaime Lannister’s.

“Sansa!” Catelyn sighed as her eldest daughter dismounted her mare with her husband’s help. 

“Mother!” Sansa cried, rushing into her embrace. They hugged for what seemed an eternity and Robb just stood there, watching. Jaime Lannister did the same, he noticed, a small smile on the older man’s face. 

A sudden scream echoed through the bailey and it took a moment to pinpoint where it had come from. By that time, it was too late. Arya had already crossed the ten feet separating her from Jaime Lannister. Her sword, Needle, unsheathed and held tight in her left fist. She thrust the tip at his chest, but his metal hand came up to knock it away lazily. He shoved her aside when she tried to attack him without a sword. Grey Wind approached Lannister, growling as his hackles rose.

“I knew this hand was good for something.” Lannister joked, looking down at Arya sprawled on the ground, completely unfazed by the massive direwolf snarling at him. 

“Jaime!” Sansa stared at him incredulously. “That’s my _sister!_ ”

His brows furrowed. “So? She was trying to _kill_ me.”

“She’s a child. She could never kill you,” Catelyn Stark said, astonished, as she rushed to her daughter’s aid.

“She’s capable of more than you know.” 

This brought a mischievous smile to Arya’s face. She picked up Needle and sheathed it. She stared up at Jaime Lannister. “You’re on my list.”

“What list is that?” Lannister asked, an eyebrow cocked toward his thick hair in amusement. 

“The men and women I will kill,” Arya said in a monotone voice. 

Jaime nodded as he ruffled Arya’s short hair. “It’s important to have goals.”

He walked over to Sansa and took her arm, whispering something in her ear. Catelyn walked over to Robb and said, “Before dinner, I think there’s something you should see.”

Robb looked at her for a moment before his eyes widened. “Did she…?”

Catelyn smiled, beckoning him to follow her. “Come see.”

 

Robb softly knocked on the door, his mother and two sisters behind him. He heard a quiet “come in” and opened the heavy door with a deafening creak. 

Talisa sat in a chair by the window, rocking back and forth, a tiny baby awake in her arms. Robb’s mouth stretched into the biggest grin. He hurried across the floor and kissed his wife full on the lips. 

“I named him, I hope you don’t mind.” Talisa said, looking up at her husband and king, eyes wide as she worried her lip. 

“Don’t you think the father should have some say in—”

She cut him off, “Eddard.”

Robb’s eyes crinkled as he stared down at the little boy in her arms. Eddard was staring back at him with Tully blue eyes, the same eyes Robb had. Thick brown hair covered his head, his skin was tan like Talisa’s. 

Talisa asked, “Do you want to hold him?” 

He nodded and she passed over the baby into his arms. He felt so awkward holding the child, but Eddard snuggled close to him and closed his eyes. 

“He’s beautiful, Robb,” said Sansa as she walked over and peeked over his elbow to look at the baby boy. Arya even came over to look at her nephew, a small smile on her face. When she saw that Robb had noticed it, it disappeared quickly. Catelyn was beaming with joy, staring unblinkingly at the boy. 

“Your father would be so proud of you, Robb.” Catelyn said.

 

The Great Hall was filled with people who hated each other when the Starks arrived half an hour later. Lannister men sat across the hall from Starks and Tullys. The glare was the favorite expression as everyone settled in to eat.

Edmure, as Lord of Riverrun, sat in the middle of the high table. Catelyn was to his left, followed by Sansa, Arya, and Red Walder. Robb was to his right, then Jaime Lannister and Brynden Tully. It was the oddest collection of people they could have brought together, Robb thought. 

“No hard feelings, Tully?” Jaime Lannister said as he leaned over Robb, an arrogant smirk tugging at his lips. 

“Fuck off, Lannister.” Edmure said bitterly. He must still be upset over his imprisonment. Edmure had always been a little childish and temperamental, his mother had told Robb. 

After that, dinner was a quiet affair. 

When the meal was finished, the women returned to Talisa and Robb’s chamber to fawn over Eddard — Arya claimed to have gone reluctantly. The men had business to attend to. Jaime and Robb’s large group of guards remained gathered in the Great Hall while Edmure’s own personal guard joined them. 

The tension in the room could actually be cut by a knife. Lyle Crakehall had to be placed as far from both the Blackfish and the Hound as possible, and both of those men didn’t like each other much either so they didn’t want to be seated near the other. It was a logistical nightmare, one in which Robb got to sit back and watch Jaime Lannister figure out. This was his plan, his idiotic idea — let him deal with the seating arrangement.

Finally, half an hour later, with the men seated next to someone they were least likely to kill, they could begin. The monstrous map had been stretched across the table by Josmyn Peckledon, the Kingslayer’s squire, and Olyvar Frey, Robb’s squire, while the men had argued. The two boys stood near the doors, chatting. The man given the place of honor in the hall was younger than both of the squires, just a page. One Robb didn’t trust to carry out a plan such as this. 

Red Walder sat at the head of the large rectangular table that had been formed out of many smaller ones. Jaime sat to his left, Robb to his right, and Edmure to Robb’s right — staring sullenly at the table, taking it as a slight that he wasn’t closer to the Frey boy. In his own castle, no less.

When everyone had stopped shouting insults and threats of maiming, Jaime stood from his chair, Stark and Tully men hurling more insults his way. Robb raised a hand to silence them. The noise ended abruptly. 

Up until that point, they hadn’t explained much to their guards, only sending pairs of Robb’s men to several of Edmure’s bannermen with orders to head for Riverrun. Many of them sat around the table now. Many of them were glaring at Jaime Lannister, still remembering the Battle of the Golden Tooth very well despite the two years that had passed. 

Lord Karyl Vance, just a Ser then, sat across the table from the Lord of Casterly Rock, his jaw clenched. Karyl’s father, a commander, had been killed in the battle. The other commander, Lord Clement Piper, had fled and sat next to Karyl now, his eldest son, Marq, by his side. More Vances, a Bracken, a couples of Rygers, a Goodbrook, the Mallisters, the Blackwoods, and a few Paeges rounded out the Tully forces at the table. Robb disliked how so many of his uncle’s friends sat at the table. 

With the room quiet enough, Jaime Lannister pointed at the map, running his finger along their route thus far. He stopped at Riverrun and looked up at the men surrounding the table. “We leave Riverrun the day after next. All Tully forces should arrive by then. Red Walder will ride ahead with scouts to silence any who might report back to the Freys. We march north toward Oldstones,” his finger slid up the map, “to Seagard.” Lord Jason Mallister, looked at him and glared. That was his castle, his home. Lannister ignored him, “From Seagard, we head northeast and six leagues from the Twins is where we part ways—”

“Why six leagues?” Lord Piper interrupted. “Seems a bit drastic, don’t you think?”

“If I thought it drastic, it wouldn’t have been said, would it?” Lannister said arrogantly. 

“None of us riverlanders understand you who hide under rocks well.” Marq Piper snapped. 

Robb looked at his uncle, wondering if he would control his men. When it was evident that he wouldn’t, Robb stood from his seat and yelled, “Enough. Lords, sers, gentlemen. We are not enemies here! Enough with the bickering and let us finish this so we may all rest after our tiresome journey.”

“The Wolf siding with the Lion, never thought I’d see the day.” Lord Tytos Blackwood bellowed. 

“We have towers to topple and a bridge to burn, don’t we?” Robb proclaimed. Some of the men nodded in agreement. 

Jaime Lannister continued, “The Starks and half of the Tullys will go north of the Twins, the Starks to ride down from the ridge when I give the signal and the Tullys to attack from the river. The other Tullys will go east, to attack on the other side of the bridge, on the river. Frey will only see the Lannister army — we’ll be out in the open.”

“Now, wait a minute!” Edmure yelled, rising from his seat in dramatic fashion with his hands gripping the edge of the table. Robb rolled his eyes. “Why does the Lannister army get to lead? Why not mine?”

Jaime roared, “He only knows of my army’s approach, Tully! Are you so vain to want to be attacked first, you idiot?” 

“A Lannister calling a Tully vain?” Kirth Vance yelled from across the room. “That’s rich.”

Over the further arguing of the men, they didn’t hear the heavy doors creak open. But the four men at the head of the table saw the girl with the auburn hair stride into the room. 

Robb raised a hand to silence his men as Jaime Lannister hurried around the table to Sansa. He whispered something to her and she mumbled a reply back. Robb called out, “Sansa, what news have you?”

“More of a question, brother.” Sansa replied as Lannister took a step away from her, his brows furrowed. 

“Can it wait until after, dear girl?” Edmure chortled. “We’re quite busy.”

“I’m afraid not, uncle.”

“Then ask it.” Edmure offered, as if her words were a gift. 

“Why would the Lannister army have reason to come to the Twins?” Sansa asked, timid now that she was in front of a huge group of men. The Kingslayer’s eyes grew angry with the knowledge of what she was about to say. “They could hold up in Casterly Rock for as long as they pleased because Walder Frey would give up long before they ran out of provisions. But, _why_ would Jaime Lannister risk his army by going to the Twins? What’s something that would make him—”

“ _No, Sansa.”_ Lannister snapped. They shared a very heated look and Robb’s fist clenched in anger. 

“What’s she on about?” The booming voice of Lyle Crakehall filled the room.

“She wants us to let Red Walder take her as hostage to the Twins.” Jaime said through gritted teeth. 

Robb’s nostrils flared. “No, Sansa.” 

It wasn’t often that he agreed with the Kingslayer, but on this matter, there was no denying that the men had her best interests in mind. She started, “But, there’s no other logical reason—”

“We said no!” Jaime yelled. Sansa recoiled as if he had slapped her. 

Once Sansa was escorted from the room by Josmyn Peckledon, the meeting passed quickly. Edmure had ale passed around and made everyone drink, regardless of whether or not they wanted to leave the room. Robb wished to go to his wife and newborn son; he could tell Jaime Lannister was itching to talk some sense into his wife.

Over an hour later, Robb looked at Eddard in his crib. Talisa was in a deep sleep, sprawled across the bed. He smiled as he watched him for a few minutes. He moved to the window and looked out over his men, they were extinguishing their fires and heading for bed. He needed rest too, he knew he would have a long day ahead of him preparing the army to move. 

 

Robb woke to little Eddard’s cries early in the morning. The sun was in the early stages of rising, a dull light peeking through the darkness outside. 

The door burst open, waking not only the baby but his wife too, and Robb was ready to murder whomever it was disturbing his family. Dacey Mormont was hunched over, panting from overexertion. 

“This had better be damn important, Mormont!” Robb hissed as he rocked the crying child in his arms, trying to calm little Eddard back to sleep. 

Dacey stood to her full height and panted out, “Sansa’s gone. Slipped out in the night. Lannister’s beside himself.”


	17. Sansa VI

Sansa held onto Red Walder’s waist tightly as they raced nearer to the Twins They took no road, heading north directly toward the castle through the woods and fields; Ser Perwyn Frey and the three Crakehall brothers their protectors. The Crakehalls would break off six leagues from the Twins — where they would wait to explain their actions to a (presumably) very upset Jaime Lannister — leaving the Freys and Sansa to go the rest of the way alone.

The sun rose and set, the landscape changed, but Sansa kept her face pressed against Red Walder’s back, not noticing much that they passed. She thought about Jaime — how she had deceived him — and wondered how he had taken waking to an empty bed.

They didn’t stop more than a few times each day — even then it was only a few minutes here and there to water the horses — before finally breaking well after the sun had set each night. A Crakehall set up Sansa’s tent; the men would sleep under the stars.

Sansa tried to get comfortable each night, but the noticeable lack of body heat next to her didn’t allow her to get much rest. Her mind was abuzz as well, never calming so she could truly sleep. She fell into a fitful sleep, wrapped in Jaime’s cloak, and dreamed of that last night at Riverrun.

 

* * *

 

_Sansa unclasped her cloak as she entered her chambers._ That couldn’t have gone any worse _, she thought. She sighed as she began to undress, knowing it would be hours before Jaime came to berate her for how she behaved in front of his men._

_She climbed into bed in a shift and tried to sleep, hoping she would be doing so when Jaime came into the room. She didn’t want him to be mad at her right now. They could talk about it tomorrow._

_A frantic knock on the door woke her from the early stages of sleep. It opened without her say so and in rushed Red Walder Frey. He was sweating and shut the door quickly behind him._

_“Walder, what—” She sat upright in bed, covering her torso with the blanket. He shhed her, not even looking at her body. Normally she would be appalled to be quieted in such a rude manner, but she knew he had something important to say._

_“I agree with your plan, Lady Sansa.” Red Walder said, not wasting any time. His words came out in a rush, “We haven’t long. I spoke with my uncle, Perwyn. He’ll help us. He’ll have horses a few hours before dawn just down the Red Fork. Josmyn will wake us, he’s to guard your door tonight. I’ll need to get a few protectors, but the Crakehalls were already to be my scouts and the way they looked tonight when you announced the plan — I have my suspicions they’ll oblige. Josmyn will make sure Lord Jaime drinks his fill before he returns tonight, so he’ll sleep soundly.”_

_“Jaime’s not much of a drinker, not lately anyway.” Sansa said, skeptically._

_“I trust Josmyn to do his job,” Red Walder waved it off. He looked at her finally, his eyes full of fear. “Do you trust your husband to kill the Freys?”_

_Sansa nodded._

_“Pack whatever you need, make it light. Hide it,” said Red Walder, already walking toward the door. “Josmyn will wake you.”_

_He left as quickly as he had come. Sansa stared at the door for a long time — when she finally tore her eyes away, the sky was black as pitch. She slid out of bed and was about to start packing when she realized that a hostage wouldn’t have time to pack anything. She would have what she was wearing at the time. If she was going to play the part, she had to commit. Instead of packing, she went to the desk in the corner and pulled out a quill pen and bottle of ink. Words flew out of her onto the blank piece of parchment in front of her. She folded it and hid it behind her trunk before returning the quill and ink to their proper places._

_The door opened nearly an hour later when Sansa was almost asleep again. Jaime was still speaking with someone outside — Josmyn, she assumed. Finally, he entered the room and shut the door. She could hear him moving around the room, taking off his hand, undressing. From his lumbering gait, she knew Josmyn had done his duty._

_He plopped down onto the bed and, after a few minutes, said, “I know you’re awake.”_

_Sansa sighed and rolled onto her back, wiping the tears from her eyes. She stared at the ceiling, wishing she could say goodbye to him properly. Tell him why this was the only way that made sense._

_Jaime rolled onto his side and placed his hand on her midsection. “What was that in the Great Hall? Why would you want to risk your life for this? It doesn’t matter why I’m attacking Walder Frey; I’m just attacking him.” He ran his thumb along her stomach. “You have to think of the baby now.”_

_“I’m sorry, Jaime — I wasn’t thinking clearly.” Sansa said, trying not to cry. He would be devastated come morning when he woke to an empty bed. She had to do this. She turned onto her side to face him. His green eyes were locked on hers and he reached his hand up to caress her face._

_“I don’t want to lose you,” said Jaime. He leaned forward and kissed her fiercely._

_Tears welled up in her eyes as he kissed her, wetting his cheeks and causing him to taste salt. He pulled away sloppily, bracing himself clumsily with his stump. He was very drunk. Sansa looked away from him, toward the window across from them. The night was still and looked pleasant enough, she wondered how warm it would be in a few hours’ time._

_“What pains you?” Jaime asked, leaning against the pillow to look at her — it was easiest for him in his current state._

_“Nothing, my love,” lied Sansa, forcing a smile for him. He saw right through it, of course. He may have been drunk, but Jaime Lannister was far from stupid. He stared at her until she gave him something of substance. “I feel foolish.”_

_He smiled sadly and cupped her cheek. “There’s no reason to feel foolish, Sansa.”_

_She closed her eyes for the briefest of moments, holding back the tears, before she looked at him again. She leaned forward and kissed him passionately — it could very well be one of the last times she kissed him. He pulled her to him and she climbed on top of him, making quick work of his clothes — she was going to say goodbye properly._

_His breath was coming out fast as she slid onto him; he moaned as she moved up and down on his shaft. She held onto his shoulders, nails digging into his flesh. Jaime reached up and grabbed her by the neck, pulling her down for a sloppy kiss. He rolled them over and pumped into her, still able to perform this task despite how inebriated he was._

_It didn’t last long, but he held off long enough for her to finish too._

_“I love you, Jaime,” said Sansa as he pulled out of her and rolled onto his side of the bed. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her against his chest. She rested her head in the crook of his arm, trying to keep from crying for fear of alerting him to her distress._

_“And I love you, Sansa.”_

 

_Josmyn’s hand softly shook her awake hours later and she slipped out of bed, dressing silently, her eyes on Jaime. Ready to go, she walked toward Josmyn at the door._ _As she glanced back at Jaime’s peaceful sleeping form in the bed — arm still outstretched toward where she had been sleeping — she felt a pang of guilt course through her. She thought about abandoning the plan and staying. But she knew that she had to do it. Josmyn was clearly anxious — drumming his fingers against his thighs as he waited for her._

_Sansa grabbed the note from behind her trunk and unfolded it. She smoothed it out and placed it next to Jaime’s metal hand. As she turned to the door, she paused. She reached for Jaime’s red Lannister cloak. She needed something of his — she just_ needed _it. He had others, but this was the one that reminded her most of him._

 

* * *

 

They were off each morning before the sun rose until they were within a few leagues of the Twins. They stopped where they assumed no other Freys would be and it was there they bid farewell to the Crakehalls. Sansa thanked Tybolt, Lyle, and Merlon in turn — they had risked their lives for her stupid plan, one she had lost faith in days ago.

“You keep safe in there,” said Lyle, the Strongboar, staring out at the two towers in the distance. “Lord Walder isn’t known to be kind to guests.”

“Especially not those whose families have crossed him,” added Tybolt as he bound Sansa’s hands together for effect.

“Twice,” chimed in Merlon.

“I think you’ve said enough,” said Perwyn, seeing the uneasy look on Sansa’s face.

Sansa watched the Crakehalls grow smaller and smaller as she and the Freys rode through the woods toward the Twins. The winds howled, tearing at the leaves on the trees, as they neared the Green Fork and Sansa clutched tighter to Red Walder’s cloak as best she could.

Riders came out to meet them as they neared the western tower. The two Freys strained their eyes to see who had come out — there were three of them and they were riding fast up the slope to where Sansa was halted with the two other Freys.

“Black Walder,” muttered Perwyn with a sigh. “Terrible temper.”

Sansa — her hands now bound — clenched her legs tighter to the horse between them; she had heard horror stories of “Black” Walder Frey. She asked, hoping they all weren’t horrible, “Who else?”

“Edwyn, his elder brother — a man full of hate if I’ve ever seen one.” Perwyn whispered as they drew closer. “And Lyonel.”

“He won’t hurt you at least,” said Red Walder, watching his brother’s approach with a sad smile on his face.

The three Frey riders clattered to a stop feet in front of them. They didn’t say anything at first, just stared hard at the newcomers — Lyonel almost smiled at his brother, but Black Walder glared in his direction. Finally, Black Walder’s stern voice filled the chilly air.

“You bring a Stark into our midst? Have you a death wish, Red?”

Red Walder kept his composure, how he did it, Sansa hadn’t the faintest clue. He replied, “A Stark hostage, dear cousin. Are you aware of what marches toward us?”

Black Walder placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. “Tell us or I’ll end you and that little wolf bitch of yours.”

“A Lannister host. I’ve brought our lord a bargaining tool,” said Red Walder, keeping his green eyes on Black Walder’s cold grey ones.

“Why would you turn on your lord?” Edwyn asked, his voice a bark.

Red Walder was a better mummer than Sansa thought he could be, he kept his face calm yet expressionless. “You think the Lannisters have ever been my lords? You’ve both squired for other lords, but they were never your lords. Lord Walder Frey is the only one we serve.”

His brother seemed doubtful, but the other two — after nearly a full minute of hard eying him — accepted it. Edwyn asked, “And you, Perwyn?”

“I’ve never been loyal to Stark.” He left it at that, kicking his horse into a canter toward the Twins.

Red Walder and Sansa were escorted to the Twins by the three remaining Freys and they were met by even more once inside the western tower. Ser Aenys stood with his younger son, Rhaegar — a man as unfitting to bear the name if there ever was one. Red Walder’s father, Ser Emmon, stood there with them, Ser Hosteen, and Ser Ryman, whose belly was so large, his belt threatened to snap.

Emmon — a short, balding man who was as thin as Ryman was round — walked toward his son, glancing nervously over his shoulder at the intimidating Freys in the room. He breathed angrily, “I’ve sided with the Lannisters in this conflict. If you’ve messed this up for me—”

“Problems, Emmon?” Hosteen asked, raising his voice to drown out Emmon’s weak whispers.

He pulled away from his son and looked at his younger brother — a man stronger than him in all senses of the word. “None.”

“Then let’s not keep our dear father waiting,” said Ser Aenys.

Black Walder gripped Sansa by the forearm and pulled her toward the Great Hall.

Lord Walder Frey, as old and worn-out looking as ever, sat atop the massive black oak chair at the back of the hall. He perked up as Sansa and Red Walder were led into the room. Perwyn stood near his chair, looking still as a statue.

“Your uncle has told me much about your escape,” croaked Lord Walder, his beady eyes trained on Sansa though he spoke to Red Walder.

Now was where they couldn’t falter in their farce. Sansa kept her eyes on the ground, knowing a hostage would only speak when spoken to. Red Walder, however, had to orchestrate their lie perfectly just as Perwyn had. He cleared his throat and approached his grandfather; when he spoke, his voice was loud and clear enough to echo through the hall so all of the Freys — numbering in the several dozens — could hear.

“I learned of the Lannisters’ attack when Jaime Lannister sent me to deliver a note to Benedict Broom, the master-at-arms. I had already heard of the note your lordship sent demanding Robb Stark to answer for his many crimes against you; I knew it was only a matter of time before Lannister reacted. He planned to have the army moving within two days—”

“ _Heh_ , stupid man. Could have holed up in the Rock for an eternity,” a leering smile was plastered on Walder Frey’s face. “When did you steal the girl?”

“That very night, my lord.”

The elder Frey nodded. “Good. And he has the Stark boy with him?” Walder Frey asked, his gnarled hands gripped the arm rests greedily.

Red Walder nodded. “Captive, like her ladyship here. The Starks are mere collateral, my lord.”

“A Stark for a Stark, fair trade I would say,” wheezed out Walder Frey. The way he was looking at Sansa made her uneasy. His unyielding eyes, boring into her soul as he stared down at her from his seat at the head of the hall.

“As I thought, Grandfather.” Red Walder was smiling, but Sansa could see his hands shaking at his sides. He clasped them behind his back so no one would notice.

Old Walder smiled, an ugly thing to witness — his teeth were well past yellow and there was something evil that lingered there. “You’ve done well, my boy.” He looked at Red Walder’s father, Emmon. “Take your lad to our best room.”

“Yes, Father.” Emmon Frey grabbed his son by the arm and led him from the room. Red Walder’s eyes met Sansa’s — they were cold, but she knew it was all part of the act.

“Now, what to do with you,” said Walder, staring down at Sansa. Lothar Frey stood next to Walder’s chair and she could see the wheels spinning in his head. They called him Lame Lothar and she always thought it was because he was dim-witted. But, seeing him walk, she knew it was because of his twisted leg. He was possibly the most dangerous of his entire family and it was all due to his brain.

“I’d suggest the dungeons, my lord,” said Lothar in a hushed whisper that echoed through the hall anyway.

“Yes, very well. Take her away.”

 

* * *

 

She woke to the shouts early two mornings later. The bruises on her sides made sitting up difficult. _The Lannister army is upon us,_ they were all yelling _._ Pounding footsteps came from the stone stairs in the hall and her door swung open, smashing against the wall. Petyr Frey, brother to Edwyn and Black Walder, walked anxiously across the cell.

“You’re to wait out the battle in the Great Hall,” said Petyr, unlocking her chains and pulling her to her feet by a hand. Sansa’s wrists were still manacled as he led her out of the room, her eyes growing wide with fear.


	18. Jaime VII

Rage fueled him for five days. It consumed him, burned him from the inside as he marched the three armies toward the Twins, making the trip two days ahead of schedule. He had five days to mull over the abandonment, the recklessness, the sheer stupidity of her act. When he woke that morning to an empty bed, he assumed she was using the privy. After a short search of their quarters, he had dressed and summoned his squire to search the castle, only to find that Red Walder, Perwyn Frey, and the Crakehalls were missing too.

It had been a chaotic morning in Riverrun after Sansa’s disappearance. Servants and squires ran about, gathering what their lords needed for battle. Jaime had given them an hour to ready themselves. Robb had tried to reason with him, to tell him that it was done, that there was nothing they could do about it now. He tried to tell him that they should stick to their original plan. Jaime had drawn his sword on the young king, yelling that Sansa was in danger, that they all were in danger because of her.

Josmyn had been brought before him, Robb, and Edmure just before they left Riverrun, implicated in the escape of Red Walder and Sansa. Shaking where he stood, the boy looked likely to piss himself. They made the mistake of letting the Hound bear witness to the confession. He unsheathed his greatsword and split the boy in two, right in the Great Hall. Jaime didn’t do a thing about it, just strode out of the chamber as if nothing had happened. That was when Podrick Payne had arrived, confused by the three armies gathered, by the alliance, by everything. Jaime didn’t blame the young man, it still confused him. Sansa had a way of uniting the men, but she was gone now and he feared they would be torn apart on their journey.

Jaime didn’t grieve for Josmyn until days later when he let himself feel anything but hate again. He had grown fond of the boy called “Peck.” Podrick seemed adequate enough, with a little training. He enlisted Brienne to help with that on the way to the Twins, he couldn’t stomach it.

“My lord,” Jaime looked up to find Brienne holding open the flap to his tent. They were seven leagues from the Twins and would arrive around midday. He looked at her expectantly and she continued, “The Crakehalls await you.”

Jaime nodded and folded up Sansa’s letter, tucking it into his tunic. He had read it more times than he cared to admit and still couldn’t make sense of it. He fastened his sword to his side and followed Brienne out of the tent.

“You look awful,” she commented as she led him toward the large tent erected in the center of camp.

“You’re no ray of sunshine either,” he spat back, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I mean to say that you need to take care of yourself,” she offered.

“I am fine.”

Brienne scowled and grabbed the collar of Jaime’s leather tunic, spinning him to face her. “You’re not fine; what Lady Sansa did was awful, but have some dignity. You’re a lord, Jaime, you can’t let others see you like this.”

“Just you?”

Her eyes softened before she blinked rapidly and released him, stalking toward the tent. Jaime followed slowly, straightening his tunic as he went. He slipped under the tent flap and his eyes found the three Crakehalls chained together on the other side of the table they used for their war council.

All three of them had bruises on their faces despite the fact that he knew they had been waiting for the armies. He walked toward them and was met with hard stares from all three brothers; they were standing together for whatever punishment he gave them. He met their gazes before he said, “Free them.”

Brienne glared at him. “You can’t be serious.”

“I said _free them_ ,” he growled. “Unless you want to go to battle without them.”

She held his glare for several moments before she released their bonds. The Crakehalls rubbed their wrists and stared at him, dumbfounded by their good fortune but too smart to question it. Jaime said, “Go, prepare for battle. I’ll hear about your reasoning later.”

They nodded and left the tent. Brienne stared at him openly and he muttered, “If you have something to say, say it.”

“Those men kidnapped your wife and took—”

“ _Kidnapped?_ She went willingly, Brienne, and we both know it. Don’t mistake perceived events for actuality,” he said calmly. “We both know the type of person Sansa is: immature, vain, inconsiderate. She did this to spite me.”

“Jaime, that’s your anger talking,” Brienne said quietly.

“Let it talk! It is the only thing speaking logic lately,” he said harshly. He waved her away. “Get the others, it’s time for our council.”

She nodded and left the tent without a word. Jaime brought himself before the large table and studied the map that had been laid out there. He knew the plan backwards and forwards, but it wouldn’t hurt to go over it once more.

Brienne returned not long after with the other officers. Robb and Edmure arrived first, followed by the Blackfish and the Hound. Daven Lannister, Jason Mallister, Dacey Mormont, Tytos Blackwood, Jonos Bracken, Marq Piper, and Karyl Vance trickled in after. Jaime commented once they were all settled, “There seem to be a lot of fish here.”

“Don’t start, Lannister,” Robb barked. “The Tullys attack from two sides, they have more commanders.”

Jaime mumbled a reply and no one pressed for what it was. Robb went over the plan again: the Lannisters attack the western tower at Jaime’s command; when the garrison comes out of the twins, Edmure’s boats launch from the northern banks while Brynden’s boats launch from the southern banks; the Starks launch down from the tree line to aid the Lannister army and storm the castle.

“Who are the threats?” Daven Lannister asked, staring at the map.

“Ser Hosteen is their fiercest fighter, 6th son of Frey,” Jaime answered, not looking at anyone in particular. “Then there’s Merrett. I squired with him at Crakehall. A bit dull, but strong. He’s a drunk though, we may not have to worry over him.”

“What of Ryman?” Jason Mallister asked.

Robb waved it off. “Likely will be in the privy when we arrive — bad belly.”

“And Ryman’s sons?” Jason pressed.

“The elder two are threats,” Jaime began. “I don’t think we need to fear Petyr Pimple, as he’s called. But Black Walder and Edwyn, both are dangerous and should be dealt with swiftly.”

“Frey’s eldest living, Emmon and Aenys, aren’t much of fighters. We’ll likely find them in the Great Hall with the man himself.” Robb said, looking around the room at each face. “We kill all of them.”

 

Jaime was already astride his destrier by the time the sun rose the following morning. He rode quietly next to Podrick Payne who filled the silence with the tale of how Tyrion had sent him away. Jaime didn’t mind the distraction, he even welcomed it, anything to take his mind off of what he would say to Sansa when he finally saw her again. It wasn’t until the armies broke apart that his thoughts were clouded by her.

He rode the rest of the way overwhelmed by the thought that they were too late. That Walder Frey had already killed her and their child. He was forced to keep his pace, assuring that his foot soldiers kept up.

He crested the hill and the Twins’ western tower came into view. Tents were set up outside, men milling around, ready for the battle to come. He knew they had lost their element of surprise when Sansa left, but he hadn’t expected Walder Frey to gather a garrison like this. He glanced at Brienne to his right and she looked grim.

“I go down alone,” Jaime said quietly.

“You can’t be serious,” she whispered, her eyes wide. “At least take your guard.”

He shook his head. “It was my wife’s stupidity that let them know we were coming. I will do this alone. When I give the signal, lead the charge yourself, Brienne.”

“Jaime—”

“Promise me,” he snapped, staring hard at her. Slowly, she nodded and he kicked his horse into a gallop down the hill. A group of Frey men was making their way from the camp toward him to meet.

He hopped off of his horse and strode across the distance that separated them. He scanned the faces of the Frey men, recognizing them instantly: Black Walder, Aenys, Rhaegar, and Merrett.

“Where is the Young Wolf?” Ser Aenys asked, his watery eyes scanning the Lannister host that gathered on the hill.

“Escaped in the night,” Jaime said, meeting Aenys’ hard gaze when it dawned on him what he had said.

“What do you mean ‘escaped in the night?’” Merrett asked, his voice shaking. Jaime wondered if it was due to the lack of alcohol in hand or the fact that his father would not be happy that Robb Stark wasn’t being handed over.

“How slow do I have to speak for a Frey to understand?” Jaime goaded, a smirk playing at his lips. He elongated each syllable for emphasis as he spoke again, “Robb Stark is gone, probably halfway back to Winterfell by now.”

Black Walder’s eyes flashed dangerously. “And what are we supposed to do with you?”

Jaime scratched the back of his head and heard the clatter of hundreds of hooves on the hill behind him. “I think you know exactly what happens now.”

He unsheathed Oathkeeper and sliced through Merrett before any steel was drawn. Black Walder’s sword met his moments later. He struck his sword swiftly through Aenys’ neck as Black swung. He was forced to roll out of the way as Black Walder’s sword came slashing toward him. Jaime tumbled along the ground, springing to his feet several yards from the two Freys. The host behind them had risen to action, running toward the Lannister forces and signaling to the tower for reinforcements.

The song of steel played its music for the men as the two hosts clashed together. The shouts were its verses, the screams of dying men its chorus. He met Benfrey, Rhaegar, and Edwyn Frey before Black Walder came for him again. He sliced his sword through Frey’s chain mail. Black swung for Jaime’s head and he ducked. He made to swing but Black caught him round the helm with the butt of his sword. Jaime fell on his ass, looking up at Black Walder, his sword out of reach. The man smirked at him as he raised his sword. An arrow pierced the back of Black’s neck and blood bubbled on his lips. Jaime looked behind him and saw Brynden Tully standing in a boat that was being rowed down the river toward the bridge. He nodded to Jaime before loading his bow again.

Once the Tullys and Starks joined the fray, it was all over for the men of the Twins. Jaime sliced through Ryman Frey before making his way into the western tower under the distraction the two new armies provided. He heard thundering footfalls behind him and glanced over his shoulder, sword at the ready, only to find Brienne and the Crakehalls at his heels.

They burst through the doors of the Great Hall and were met with the swords of Hosteen, Petyr, and Walton Frey. Jaime let the others deal with them after sidestepping a clumsy jab from Petyr. Hosteen was the only warrior of the group.

“You’ll forgive me for not kneeling — you are king now, I presume?” Walder Frey’s beady eyes were on Jaime Lannister as he strode toward him, armor dripping with blood. The silence behind him told him that the three Frey men were dead.

“We have too many kings, I won’t burden the realm with another.” Jaime said, gripping the hilt of Oathkeeper.

“ _Heh_ , wise,” Frey commented. “I see you’ve killed many of my children. I’ll just make more.”

Jaime shook his head, still walking toward him. “You won’t have the chance, old man.”

“Won’t I?” Frey said, eyebrows raising a fraction of an inch. “I still have a chip to play.”

He snapped his feeble fingers and one of the doors leading from the hall opened. Lothar Frey walked in, dragging Sansa behind him. Red Walder and Perwyn followed them.

“Jaime!” Sansa cried out, her eyes meeting his as she struggled against Lothar’s grip.

“Kill the bitch,” Frey commanded. Perwyn stepped up and nodded toward his father. He drew his sword and swung. Lothar’s body crumbled to the floor, twitching as the blood pumped out of the neck wound onto the flagstones.

Sansa stared down at the body, ignoring the blood that covered her face. She met Jaime’s eyes, he quickly averted his and strode up the steps to where Frey sat. Jaime stood before the Lord of the Crossing and looked down at his sword before meeting Walder Frey’s eyes.

He wheezed out, “Oh, just get on with it then.”

Oathkeeper plunged into Walder Frey’s heart, Jaime watched the life leave his eyes. He withdrew and stepped back as the wizened man’s body slumped forward. He called over his shoulder, “Merlon, Lyle, let Robb and Edmure know what has happened. End the fighting.”

The two younger Crakehalls nodded and left the room, glad to be gone. The tension hadn’t dissipated with the death of Walder Frey, it had increased. Jaime began to walk toward Brienne and Tybolt, preparing to leave without a word to his wife, Red Walder, or Perwyn when she called out his name.

Sansa hurried across the flagstones toward him, but Jaime held up his hand, causing her to halt in her long strides. He growled, “Don’t.” He could hear the tears thick in her throat as she said his name again. He shook his head and continued out the door.

He didn’t returned for many hours, not until the battle was finished. He strode into the room with Robb and Edmure. The King in the North sighed with relief at the sight of his sister; he rushed across the room to her and swept her up in a hug. Jaime walked toward the two Frey men.

Oathkeeper, dripping red with the blood of too many men to count, turned on Red Walder. Sansa cried, “Jaime, don’t!”

“And why not? Why should I forgive any of you for what you did?” He asked, screwing his eyes up hard to keep his emotions in check. He could barely look at her without being overwhelmed by the conflicting thoughts — he wanted to hug her, to slap her, to yell at her, to kiss her.

“Are you mad, Lannister?” Robb asked, tightening his grip on Sansa but she pulled away from him. She walked timidly toward her husband until she was a few feet from him.

“If you truly care for me,” Sansa said quietly, “please don’t harm them. They saved me from Ser Dafyn Vance after you left. I owe them my life.”

Jaime glared at her harshly for nearly a minute, taking in the tears on her face, the heartbreak written on every inch of her skin. He let his sword clatter to the floor and spat, “I won’t be a kinslayer again. But I owe them nothing more.”

He continued to glare at Sansa as he added, “I owe _you_ nothing more.”


End file.
